Unrelated
by john n dean
Summary: John is a simple man with a gorgeous wife and great kids. He has a solid business and a lucrative side occupation that appeals to his love of the military. He has one big problem, though. He's falling in love with someone else. Dean isn't a Winchester.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Unrelated, 1/9**  
><strong>**Art by:** beelikej**  
><strong>**Pairing:** John/Mary, John/Dean**  
><strong>**Rating:** NC-17 **  
><strong>**Total Word Count:** 5766**  
><strong>**Warnings:** Explicit slash**  
><strong>**Disclaimer:** If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

_**A/N:**__ See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story._

**Chapter 1**

The day was hot, one of the first truly hot days of the year. The kids would be out of school on break soon, and the Winchesters would take their annual camping trip. Maybe one or two to a local theme park or a cross country drive. Today had been a slow day at the garage, so John had closed up shop early to give his girl some TLC. His coveralls only covered his legs today, the top portion rolled up and the arms tied around his waist to keep them up. The two-car attached garage behind him was even hotter than the air outside and he could feel the heat radiating from the open door. He was hot, sweaty and most likely smelly. And starving, his stomach suddenly reminded him with a growl that he swore could be heard in the next county. It was almost dinner time.

He could smell something cooking in the house and he wondered what Mary was making for supper. He hoped it wasn't something vegan again. He needed meat and potatoes. His wife always insisted that you needed something light on a hot day, but he was craving something substantial. After a long shower and before bed in the air-conditioned cool of the house. He hoped this early heat wave wasn't a sign of things to come. He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow.

The thermos full of water he'd been sipping on wasn't as ice cold as it had started out anymore, but it still felt cool on his parched throat. What he really wanted, though, was a beer. But he was already sweating like a bitch. He didn't want to get dehydrated. He snorted in amusement and called himself a pussy. There was a time when he wouldn't have even thought of dehydration, would stand out in the sweltering heat with a cooler at his side, knocking back cold ones from the time he popped the hood until he closed it again. Maybe even have one last one as he basked in the satisfaction of having a perfectly maintained classic and polished his fingerprints off the hood. Obviously, he was turning into the Colonel. There were worse people to be, he guessed.

All he'd have time for today was a tune up. The oil change would have to wait until the weekend. A drop of sweat tickled as it slowly made a path between his shoulder blades. He flexed his shoulders absently, annoyed. Glancing up at the swish of baggy jeans and saw his oldest son walking up the drive through the heat haze rising off the sidewalk. He did a double take.

"What the hell happened to you, Sammy?"

"I got jumped after school…"

"Jumped?" John grabbed his son by a skinny bicep and pulled him closer and began a thorough field exam. At fifteen, Sam had just hit one hell of a growth spurt. The short, pudgy kid John was used to was now a tall, willowy boy on the cusp of manhood. The boy was only a head shorter than him now, and he was beginning to suspect that his son could possibly grow taller than he was. Most of the men on his side of the family were tall and he had no doubt now that Sam was going to take after them.

"Dad!" Sam tried to evade his father's probing hands, but it was in vain.

"Be still, son," John said firmly. The boy stilled immediately, but it was obvious that he didn't want to. Sam always had to make sure John knew that he obeyed under duress. That he felt John's ability and willingness to force his will on him was a travesty of justice. Maybe that was why the boy was dead set on becoming a lawyer. Fighting the system, his own spin on what his mother had done before him.

"You should see the other guys."

John froze for a second, mid-poke in his mission to make sure none of his kid's bones were broken. He'd never taught Sammy how to fight. Mainly because the boy didn't want to learn and had played him and his peacenik wife off each other like a freaking pro. Which, as their eldest son, he definitely was. So, if Sammy didn't know how to fight, how could the other boys possibly be in worse shape? Unless the boy knew how to fight naturally. He'd seen it before, kids who somehow managed to find their legs when thrown into a fight and hold their own despite never having fought before. But he never would have guessed his son would be one of them. "What do you mean?"

"This guy… he _saved_ me!" John felt his heart drop in the face of his son's excitement. If the boy would let him teach him just a little self-defense then maybe he wouldn't need saving like some damn damsel in distress. Even his _sisters_ knew how to defend themselves. He suspected that Sam didn't want to learn simply because John wanted to teach him. His boy could be willful like that. "You should've seen him, Dad. It was like somethin' out of a _movie_."

"Yeah?" John resumed his examination, a small smirk on his face. For such an ardent pacifist his firstborn sure did love violence. At least from afar. "That was awfully nice of him. Although if you had let me teach you to fight, you wouldn't've needed saving."

Sam blushed, but refused to rise to the bait. "Can I invite him to dinner this weekend? Please?"

"Sure. Why not… least we can do for the guy who saved our firstborn. Just make sure you clear it with your mother too." He put his hands on the boy's bony shoulders, satisfied that none of his injuries were serious. "Speakin' of which, you thought this was bad? Just wait and see what your mother'll subject you to once she sees you all black and blue like this."

Sam groaned and trudged towards the house like a condemned man heading for the gallows. John chuckled and went back to work on his girl. Maybe just one beer wouldn't hurt.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

The first time John saw Dean swaggering up his drive it felt like the bottom dropped out of his stomach. He was just twisting the oil cap back on his girl's engine after finishing up the oil change he hadn't had time to do the week before when he looked up to see the most stunning boy he'd ever seen in his life. A small shy smile showing off perfect teeth, striking eyes in an unusual shade of green, a light dusting of freckles on his flawless skin, long lashes. It was difficult for him to wrap his mind around the fact that this kid had taken on three bullies and walked away with all that gorgeous unmarred. He also had to admit to himself that he found the kid so damn attractive that he could already feel his brain turning into mush, and that was not a good thing at all.

"Dean Jacobs?"

"Yes sir. Mr. Winchester?"

He grunted softly and nodded in the affirmative, approving of the boy's manners. "So, I hear I have you to thank for the fact that my son's still breathin'."

Dean blushed and looked down. "It was nothin', sir. I don't like bullies, you know?"

It wasn't as hot as it had been the previous week, a cool breeze making it almost perfect outside. John regarded the kid silently as he wiped his hands off on his coveralls. Looks, character and modesty. Nice combination. He closed the hood of the Impala. "Well, come on. Let me take you in and introduce you to the clan. Hopefully you'll be able to fend for yourself while I wash up."

The kid went wide eyed at that comment and John chuckled. Dean swallowed hard and blinked at him. He put his hand on the kid's shoulder and steered him towards the house.

"Don't worry. They don't bite. Least not lately."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"Where'd you learn to fight?" Sam asked in the middle of the meal. John was grateful that it was roast beef today, not a hint of tofu to be found. "Did your father teach you?"

"I wish my old man coulda taught me to fight," he said, his mouth still full of food. He was oblivious to the younger children staring at him with a mixture of disbelief, awe and nausea. John fought to keep a straight face. The kid had almost no table manners, but he was charming – and attractive – enough for that to be nothing more than a minor annoyance. "I had to learn the hard way."

"The hard way?"

"Let's just say, I'm very thankful that I heal up so good. And I really don't think I'm as good as I could be, you know. If I had some real training."

"If you want, I can show you a few moves." Even as he felt the words coming out, John knew he was making a huge mistake. If nearly twenty years of marriage had taught him anything, it was that you avoid temptation at all costs. You don't put yourself in the path of it. Honor wasn't cheap or painless, and it was too damn easy to throw away in a moment of weakness.

The boy's face lit up like a kid at Christmas. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Dude… why did you need to learn to fight?" Sam cut in before John could respond. Clearly the boy thought that Dean was his friend and didn't want to relinquish his attention so easily.

"Dude! Have you _seen_ this face?" Dean pointed at himself with his fork, a small smirk tugging his lips upwards on one side. "When I was a kid, people used to think I was a girl. The only color I wore for the first five years of my life was blue. So guys see this much pretty and they think I'm soft." John snorted quietly at that. So much for modesty, he thought as he listened to Dean, who seemed completely in his element now. Or maybe he just knew his strengths and vulnerabilities. "Once they get the impression that you're soft, they will have absolutely no mercy. In fact, you probably need to get Mr. Winchester to show you some moves too. The minute I'm not around those jackasses'll be back for more. And they'll likely want to take the beating I gave 'em out on you."

"Oooooh!" Shauna said, sounding scandalized the way only an eight year old could be. "He said a bad word! Daddy, he said a bad word!"

Dean gave John another one of his deer in the headlights stares and he had to laugh as he threw the poor kid a conspiratorial wink. The boy blushed. He seemed to be an odd mixture of swagger and humility. There was more to Dean than met the eye, and John found himself wanting to know him. He turned to Shauna, her wide light brown eyes almost golden in the overhead light, looking up at him like he would right this great wrong. It was a look that never failed to make him melt. She was still young enough to think he could make anything right. He dreaded that day when she figured out the truth. "I know, kiddo. He's new, though. What do you say we cut him some slack, just for today?"

Shauna sighed and nodded.

Andrew had speared his slice of roast beef with his fork and was nibbling on it. John frowned at him for a second. "You want some help with that beef, son?"

"Nah… I'm good."

"You sure about that?"

The boy shrugged his thin shoulders. "Whatever works."

John chuckled softly and ruffled the boy's hair. It was what he always said, it was the philosophy he'd been taught growing up, the one he'd lived by in the Corps and the one he taught his kids. When you have an objective, you do whatever works to achieve it. It doesn't matter if it's pretty… and what the five year old was doing with that beef definitely wasn't pretty but there was no doubt but that it was getting eaten. He was just going to have to hose the kid down later. "Oorah, son. Oorah."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

One of the best things about having so many kids was that clean up went a lot quicker than it did when it was just John and Mary. John had the post dinner clean up running like a well-oiled machine at this point. Within ten minutes of their guest leaving, everything was wiped down and rinsed off, and the dishwasher was loaded and put on a six hour timer. Just in case someone got the munchies in the middle of the night. John was laying on the couch watching a documentary about the Battle of the Bulge on the Military Channel, Shauna curled up on his lap wearing her pajamas, already sound asleep. He ran his fingers through her silky blond hair. Andrew was clean and sprawled out on his legs, also asleep.

He felt thin fingers in his hair. Mary stood behind the couch, a small smile on her face. It was clear that she thought the whole thing was adorable. "You want me to take one of them up?" she asked softly.

"Nah. I got 'em. I'll be up as soon as this is off."

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead before going upstairs. He watched her go, loose golden curls bouncing, curvy hips swaying gently. She was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

There should be a law, Dean thought as he stood under the spray of hot water in the shower. Married men old enough to be your father shouldn't be sexy. They shouldn't have gorgeous dimpled smiles that made their eyes sparkle. They shouldn't wink at you conspiratorially or have thick curly hair that your fingers itched to run through. They shouldn't have deep, rumbling voices that made you want to hear them say your name while you were giving them head.

He groaned when he finally gave into the urge to touch himself, a soapy hand wrapping around his half hard cock. He'd been half hard all night, trying to think of anything but how incredibly hot John Winchester was. His wife wasn't bad either, and he would have thought he'd develop a crush on her. But sometimes who he was attracted to was completely unpredictable.

He'd pretty much always known that he was bisexual. It had confused him at first, why he wanted to kiss Brian AND Amy in third grade. He'd never been the type to worry about things like that, though, so he'd just gone with it and eventually ended up kissing them both. Amy had sworn that they would get married. Brian had stared at him wide eyed, like he didn't know if he should kiss back or punch him in the mouth. He'd chosen to run away and he never let himself be alone with Dean again. It didn't take him long to start understanding the difference beyond the obvious surface ones. He learned to figure out which boys wanted to be kissed, and which would likely try to rearrange his face for him.

John… there was something about the man that made him think that maybe John was one of the boys who wanted to be kissed. But he had a gorgeous wife, and Dean had seen the way he looked at her. Mary Winchester was no beard. So, even if John were bisexual like Dean, he was taken. And he was in love with his wife. John was off limits. But that didn't stop his fantasies.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wonder. He imagined John's hands on him, standing behind him in the shower and whispering dirty things in his ear. He groaned loudly when he came, shuddering and leaning heavily against the wall. He was so screwed.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"I like girls. But sometimes… I like guys too." Well, damn. Dean had no idea why he'd blurted that out. Luckily, they were alone this time. Usually it was a group lesson and John taught his girls how to fight the same way he taught his boys. They'd met at the garage before dawn and John and the older boys would spread mats over the cold concrete floor.

Judging from how good all the rest of the kids were, Dean would have thought Sam would know more about self-defense than just curling up into a little ball until the blows stopped coming. It didn't take him long to realize that Sam just hadn't _wanted_ to learn for whatever reason. The boy was quick and had good reflexes, so it didn't take him long to get the basics down. He didn't care to learn more than it would take to keep from getting his ass handed to him again, and Dean guessed he understood. Sam wasn't the type of person who enjoyed fighting with his hands… he liked fighting with his words. No that that would help the kid with bullies, but Dean's father was like that so he knew the type.

But none of the Winchester kids were here now. They were off with Mary doing something today, so it was just him and John. They were sitting on the floor of John's garage, drinking water and sweaty after a round of sparring, and he was obsessed with a droplet of sweat running down the side of the older man's neck. He desperately wanted to lick it off. Before he realized he was even speaking, his confession slipped out.

"You're bisexual." John said matter-of-factly.

Dean nodded, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow him already. "Yeah. I don't usually tell people that. Most people don't understand."

"First thing you need to know about people? Lion share of 'em are idiots. The minute you come to terms with that fact, it cuts out most of your sources of frustration."

Dean snorted softly. He hadn't expected John to be so accepting. Normally, he didn't really expect anyone to be accepting. Even gay men tended to wonder what the hell he saw in women. Maybe… maybe he was right about John being bi. "I want to be a Marine. Like you were."

"Really? I think you'd do well in the Corps."

"Yeah? You don't think my… sexuality will be a problem?"

"Not as long as you understand you don't sign up to have fun. The men you serve with won't care once you prove yourself and they know you're not pervin' on 'em in the shower. I mean, honestly, who wants to get naked in front of someone they're completely unattracted to if they think that person's gonna be wackin' off to the image later? Once they know they can count on you and that you have honor, it won't matter what they find out about who you sleep with. Bein' a Marine is like bein' a member of a family. You look out for each other no matter what and the only thing that can get you kicked out is disloyalty."

"Disloyalty?"

"Anything that threatens the unit, or the individuals in it. You don't shit where you eat. Meaning, you don't fuck with who you serve with, in any sense of the word. Or their spouses, or girlfriends, or boyfriends. That's disloyalty."

"So, I should go for it?"

"Yeah. If you wanna serve in a specific area, let me know. I might be able to help you out. I'll give the Colonel a call."

"The Colonel?"

"My father."

"You call your father the Colonel?"

John blushed slightly. "Don't start. _Everybody_ calls him the Colonel. Even my mother."

Dean frowned at him and tried to imagine calling his father anything but Dad. Especially by rank or title. "Wow. Is he a hard ass?"

The older man shrugged. "About some things. But he's a fair man. A good man. Everybody respects him, so if he puts in a word for you people will listen."

Dean nodded and tore his eyes away from John's profile. He really should stop coming, but he knew he wouldn't. He was obviously a masochist.

One day, Dean thought he finally had John pinned to the mat. But the older man was already three steps ahead of him. He was always three steps ahead of him. It should be annoying, but somehow it wasn't. He ended up sprawled out on the mat trying to figure out how it happened. They were alone again, because everyone was in school. Dean had a senior skip day so he'd stayed when everyone else left, grumbling that senior skip days were grossly unfair. They only felt that way because they weren't seniors yet. Right now, though, he almost wished he were at school too. That someone John's age could throw him around like that was just plain wrong.

John looked down at him, his head cocked. "You gonna get up anytime soon, kiddo?"

"What, I'm not already standin'?"

The older man snorted and held out his hand. Dean took it and pulled himself up. John was like a mountain. He was barely an inch taller, but he was broad and solid. His mouth went dry as he looked into warm hazel brown eyes. There were flecks of gold in the irises. The thought of being held down and taken was doing funny things to his breathing.

"You okay, Dean? Did you hit your head?"

Dean shook his head and backed up. "Yeah… I mean no, I didn't hit my head, but yeah I'm okay. Just got the wind knocked outta me is all."

"Maybe we should call it a day," John said in his deep, rumbling voice as he walked to the small refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

"Can I have a beer?"

John gave him a measuring look as he twisted off the cap. "You do know you haven't reached the legal age yet, don't you?

He rolled his eyes. "Like that means anything."

John snorted and shook his head. He took a long pull before he answered. When he looked at Dean again, his eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Tell you what. You manage to pin me? And I'll give you a beer."

It took nearly a year for Dean to earn his first beer from John. These weren't the street fights that Dean had cut his teeth on. The old man was tough. And he fought dirty. "No such thing as a fair fight, kiddo," he'd say.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"Teach me?"

That's how Dean's internship at the garage started, with a tentative request. John could have pretended not to hear. He had a feeling that if he had, Dean wouldn't have repeated it. But it was the start of a disturbing trend of him not being able to say no to the boy, let alone ignore him. For the next two years, the boy showed up on time every day. It only took six months for him to get certified and after that he was every bit as dependable as John's own sons, sometimes more.

John couldn't say when during that time his feelings deepened from just wondering what the boy's lips tasted like or what kinds of sounds he'd make if John just gave in one day and bent him over. Of course, the only thing that he'd be giving into was his own sick little fantasies. Dean would likely be horrified if he tried anything and that would be the end of that. He'd likely think John was some sort of dirty old man and never come back again. After all, the kid was only two years older than Sammy.

You got to know a person when you saw them as much as he saw Dean. The was a quick learner, and knew how to follow directions. At least John's directions. Respect had to be earned with him, and until it was he tending to look at everyone with suspicion. What John couldn't figure out was what the hell he'd done to earn it. Dean was also easy to talk to. They could talk for hours. John would often lose track of time when he was talking to the boy, which was odd for him. There had even been a few times when he'd have things to do or somewhere to be, but he'd carry on the conversations anyway because he didn't want it to end. He didn't want to be somewhere else.

During the time that Dean worked full time at the garage, he went camping with them twice and on of couple of their other vacations. All the kids loved him, and Mary seemed to have some sort of motherly connection to him. She would fuss over the boy and make sure he always had enough to eat or fuss at him when she didn't think he was adequately dressed. Sometimes even John couldn't tell the difference between the way she treated Dean and the way she treated their children. It just made him feel even more like an old, sick fuck. If Mary could treat this kid like one of theirs, what the hell was wrong with him?

There was nothing fatherly about his feelings for Dean. All he wanted was to be close to him, to talk to him, to know everything there was to know about him. It was becoming an obsession, and John couldn't stop it. It made him feel helpless, like some sort of addict craving his next Dean fix. It also made him feel like a cheater. Like he was betraying his wife.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Dean should have said no when John first asked if he wanted to join the Winchester clan on their annual camping trip. Yet, here he was sitting around the campfire with them listening to John tell war stories. He knew John's six kids like they were part of his family by that point. Of course there was Sam, who was basically his shadow since he'd saved his ass. Then there was Michael who was shy and intense, Riley who was a total tomboy and took more risks than anyone else Dean had ever met, Shauna who was the girly girl always wearing pink and ribbons but who could skin a rabbit without blinking, Robert who was a complete jock and knew everyone, and Andrew who had all of Mary's passion combined with all of John's interests.

Most of the arguments in the family were between Sam and Robert, and Riley and Shauna. All the Winchesters were strong willed as far as Dean could tell. None of them liked being wrong, and none of them liked giving an inch of ground. Mary tried to get them to be tolerant. "You're no more right about most things than they are," she'd say. "You can't force your views on anyone. You have to learn to respect your differences." John tried to get them to think through how important what they were arguing about was, and let little things go. "You can't die on every hill," he'd say. "If you think they're bein' stupid, you just have to let them be stupid. They're not doin' it just to annoy you. And even if they are, is bein' annoyed gonna kill you?"

John and Mary were clearly in their element in the great outdoors, but the whole experience had just taught Dean that he hated camping. The only thing he really enjoyed was John teaching him to hunt. All the kids knew how to hunt with rifles and with bow and arrow, even Sam. They all knew how to dress a fresh kill and how to cook the meat. He was triumphant when he shot his first deer, until John explained the ritual to him. He didn't want to believe it, but the interesting shade that some of the kids turned told him that the man was completely serious.

"And you couldn't have told me about this _before_ I killed it?" He stared at them wide-eyed. Suddenly this whole thing was a lot less awesome.

"Because I didn't want to distract you. Don't tell me you're too afraid."

Dean bristled at that. "Why would I be afraid? Grossed out, definitely. I mean, who the hell eats the eyes, anyway?"

"It's a survival technique. You have to be willing to eat the entire animal. The eyes are the part that gives people the most trouble. If you can get past that, then you'll be fine with the other unsavory parts."

He cleared his throat as he looked down at the deer, laying on the ground. The eyes were staring sightless at nothing. "So… do we at least cook 'em?"

Just about everyone snickered and Dean scowled at them. "No, kiddo," John answered gently, like he was afraid Dean would freak out. He had to admit he was close to freaking out, but he'd be damned if he was gonna lose his shit in front of the man. "We don't cook 'em. Just dig 'em out and suck 'em down like oysters."

Dean could either punk out – and likely never live it down – or just man up and do it. It took him three tries to swallow the first one and he nearly gagged once he did. He glared at the second before closing his eyes and choking it down too. John slapped him on his back and smiled at him proudly.

"Good. Now, you get to learn how to dress it. Venison's awesome when you cook it right."

"I think I lost my appetite," he said glumly. He'd been looking forward to the venison, but he was no longer sure he could hold anything down. His stomach was already threatening rebellion.

Sam snorted. "Like that's even possible."

John squeezed his shoulder before it fell away. Dean didn't want the older man to stop touching him. "Come on… you'll be alright."

The minute they returned to the campsite, Mary took one look at Dean and her face softened in sympathy. "He made you eat the eyes, didn't he?"

"Course I did," John spoke up. "It's a family tradition."

She sighed softly and shook her head. "And you wonder why I became a vegetarian." She handed Dean a cup of strong coffee and rubbed his shoulder as he sipped at it. It made him feel guilty, the way Mary treated him. She was like a second mom to him, and he was lusting after her husband like some sort of perv. But nothing would ever happen, because John didn't want it to happen. He had a really cool wife and six really cool kids. The man's life was perfect. What would he want with Dean? No, John was just a nice guy who'd let him be a part of his family.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

John couldn't sleep. Well, he probably could, but every time he started to drift off he would begin to fixate on Dean. More to the point, he kept thinking of things he wanted to do to Dean. It unsettled him and so he'd given up trying to redirect his subconscious and come out here to watch the night sky. He heard Dean long before he saw him. He knew his footsteps now, the way he knew Mary's and his children's. The boy sat down next to him and he suddenly wanted to move away. Not because he didn't want to be close to him… because he wanted it so badly. Because being close to Dean made him feel like some strange cross between a dirty old man and a kid with his first crush. He tried to treat the boy like one of the kids the way his wife did, but he couldn't lie to himself. He knew what was in his own mind.

John had thought the boy was beautiful the first time he'd seen him, but who Dean was on the inside had turned out to be a thousand times more beautiful than who he was on the outside. It didn't take much to make him happy, to make him grin until he practically glowed. He was hard to upset, quick to get over it. He never argued and rarely complained. John never failed to be fascinated by the way he saw the world, how he built complex theories around things that most people never even gave a second thought to while giving almost no thought at all to things that most people worried themselves sick over.

"What're you doin' up?" he finally asked when they'd sat in silence for a few minutes, both looking at the stars. That was one of the things he liked best about Dean. They could sit in silence without either of them feeling the need to fill it up with useless chatter.

"Couldn't sleep. Kept thinkin' about how those eyes felt goin' down."

John snorted. "You'll get over it."

"Yeah."

"You did real good today, Dean." The boy smiled at him then, glowing in the moonlight and John was hit with the sudden desire to kiss him. It wouldn't take much. The distance between them was so small; all he had to do was lean over a little. It would be so easy. He pushed the desire down. "I'll teach you to use a bow if you decide to come with us again next year," he said instead. Because spending more time with the kid was going to make this go away, he told himself sarcastically.

"You'd want me to?"

"Sure. You're part of the family now. The only way out at this point is death. I ain't sure if even that'll work, kiddo."

Dean was silent for a moment, his face shrouded in shadow, before looking back up at the sky. "I had no idea there were so many stars."

"Yeah. You can only see the brightest ones in the city. Too much ambient light. But out here… out here you can see 'em all."

Dean shifted and their shoulders touched. John gasped softly at the jolt that went through him at the contact. He stood up a little too suddenly and had to put a hand against the tree they'd been leaning on to steady himself. Dean was staring up at him with wide, frightened green eyes. Did the boy know what he'd been thinking?

"I'm gonna walk the perimeter and then turn in. Don't stay up too late." He didn't wait for a response before disappearing into the brush.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Unrelated, 2/9  
><strong>Art by:<strong> beelikej  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>John/Mary, John/Dean  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Total Word Count:<strong> 4073  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Explicit slash  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

_**A/N:**__ See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story._

**Chapter 2**

John looked up from the car he was working on, frowning and gesturing with his wrench. "What's wrong with Annapolis?"

"Nothin's _wrong_ with it," Dean insisted. "I just want to stay here 'til I graduate. You and Sam promised to help me if I tried this, and I don't think you can do that if I'm all the way in freaking Annapolis. I'm just grateful that the University of Kansas is an NROTC school."

"I went to Annapolis after Nam," he said, trying not to sound peevish. He didn't know why it was so important to him where Dean went. Honestly, he was just as disturbed at the idea of Dean being gone as he was with the idea of his kids being gone… but he still wanted them all in Annapolis, irrational as that might be. "Spent eight more years in the Corps after I got back stateside. Four years there and then four years climbing up the ranks after graduation. I was gonna be a career Marine like the Colonel. But… I got married instead."

"You could have done both."

"I could've. But Mary hates the Corps. In case you ain't noticed, my wife's a little anti-establishment."

Dean snorted. "Yeah. I did. You ever regret it? Leaving the Corps?"

"I don't think I would have had as much time for my kids if I'd stayed in. I can't regret that." He snorted softly. "Riley's talkin' about goin to the Citadel. The fuckin' Citadel. Says it's _pretty_."

He frowned at the older man, trying to imagine Riley calling anything 'pretty' as a compliment. "I take it that's… bad."

"Yes, it's bad. Have you ever seen that place? It looks like some freaking castle outta a fairytale."

"Seriously?"

John shuddered slightly and Dean couldn't tell if it was a fake shudder or not. He snorted anyway. "It freaks me out, Dean. Girl's stubborn even for a Winchester, though. If she's sayin' she wants to go there now, I doubt she'll change her mind down the road."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"John! I finally found the one!" Dean came striding into the garage, his long legs eating up the distance between them. It was late in the day and Dean had only been gone an hour and a half. John was alone, doing safety checks on cars that would be ready for pick up the next day.

"The one?"

"Yeah… the girl of my dreams. Come on. You gotta come see."

John wanted to be happy, and flattered that Dean would be so anxious for him to meet this girl, but he felt like his heart was being crushed. He was _married_. He had no right to be jealous. "Uh, sure."

He followed the boy, who was so happy he was practically vibrating, to the front of the shop. John frowned when he saw no one out there. Dean walked right over to a motorcycle. It was a classic, but it was cherry. And beautiful enough to give the Impala a run for her money. All smooth and curvy. Like a work of art made out of steel and chrome, gleaming black and silver in the late afternoon sun. It brought to mind a well-built woman.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Dean was running his hands over it – _her_ – lovingly. John had to admit that she did have sex appeal.

"She's a motorcycle," John stated flatly, trying to ignore the relief flooding him. The relief didn't last long, though. It was quickly choked out by shame. It was damn selfish of him to not want Dean to have love if he couldn't have him. He didn't like that impulse at all. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Dean and he felt like a complete bastard for wishing otherwise.

"Yeah. I always wanted one. When I saw her, I just couldn't resist." The boy threw one long leg over the bike and settled onto the seat like he was born to ride her. "What do you think? I'm not gonna be one of those guys who just thinks he looks cool when he really looks like a huge dork, am I?"

"You look…" _Sexy? Hot? Fucking edible spread out over that bike like that?_ "… good."

Dean gave him a blinding smile, every one of his teeth showing. "Yeah? I told my mom about her over the phone. I know it was a cop out, but she's convinced I'm gonna kill myself and I didn't have the nerve to tell her in person that I finally took the plunge."

"You got protective clothing and a helmet, right?"

"Yes sir."

"Then all you need to do is avoid bein' reckless and watch out for the idiots around you."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"I know. It's weird watchin' him study so hard." John looked up at the sound of Michael's voice. The boy had followed his gaze to where Dean sat in a corner of the shop at a rickety table completely engrossed in a book that didn't contain cars, porn or comics. Dean. He'd wanted to be an officer, but he was afraid. He'd enrolled at the community college to take all his required courses and signed up for the Marine reserves at nineteen. It had been easier than he expected it to be, so he decided to enlist while he continued his college classes. The Corps was footing the bill, and Dean was doing a good job of keeping up with his studies and the demands of the NROTC, which were even harder for Marines. He barely had time to work at the garage at all anymore, but he still spent as much time as he could there or at the house, sitting in a corner with his books and manuals.

John snorted in agreement with his son, like that was actually what had been on his mind. Really, he'd been daydreaming about how he could put the boys' mouth to better use than chewing on that poor, defenseless pencil. His son catching him at it just make him feel like an even bigger lecher. "Speaking of studying, how'd you do on your test?"

"I have no idea. Damn thing was so long. Whoever came up with these stupid standardized tests was an evil bastard. But I'm sure I scored high enough. I've got a solid 3.25 GPA. So, I'm not really worried."

"Good. Give any thought to your MOS?"

"Well, they said my eyesight was 20/10. They seem to think that I'd make a good sniper like my old man."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"You know I love Dean…"

John was exhausted. After his shower, he hadn't had the energy to turn down the bed or put on a fresh pair of boxers. He lay on top of the covers, face down, still wrapped in his towel. The boys had worn him out playing contact football and he had several bruises to show for it, but Mary's words had him on high alert. She didn't _know_, did she? He opened one eye and tried to look up at her from where he lay. "But?"

She lay down facing him and ran her fingers through his damp hair. "I think you should try to give equal time to Sam. I know he's difficult right now," John snorted at the understatement, but she continued "but he's at an awkward age and I think he feels excluded."

"_Excluded_? He never wants to do anything with me. It's not like I say, I'm gonna spend all day with Dean and nobody else can come. The other boys usually just include themselves."

"Maybe if you tried to do things with him? I mean… ask him if he wants to come with you to do something you know he likes. Maybe spend a little one on one time with him." He felt her straddling his hips and she began to knead his back and shoulders with surprisingly strong fingers. He moaned softly as he felt himself slowly relax. "Just remind him that he's your firstborn and that you love him too."

"I'll try. But if I say the sky is blue, he says it's really _azure_. Which I'm really fuckin' sure is still blue."

She snorted softly and leaned down to kiss his shoulder. "It is. He's just… trying to find something that he's better at than you."

"Well, that's not difficult. I only got two things I'm good at."

"That's not true. You're a hard man to live up to. You never allow yourself a margin of error. He's a lot more like you than either of you think. He wants to be a lawyer and he's strong enough to do that despite the whole Winchester legacy thing… but he feels like he's let you down somehow by doing it. So he's prickly and defensive. That sound like anyone you know."

"Yeah. We never shoulda named him after your father."

Mary laughed and poked him in the ribs. "He's nothing like Dad. He's like _you_. Proud and stubborn and always trying to do the right thing by his own standards."

"I wanna spend time with the boy, Mary. Especially now, especially when he's about to go off to Stanford."

"I know. Who would've thought you'd be worse than me when it came time for the kids to leave home?" She kissed him behind the ear. "Get up, honey… let me pull the covers back for you. You don't have to put anything on. That'll just make it easier for me to molest you in the morning."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"Come on, Sammy. Dean and I are gonna shoot some hoops."

Sam frowned up at him, a slightly peevish expression on his face. John wondered what the boy's problem was now. He was _trying_ to include him. Sometimes it worked, but mostly it didn't. Last time he checked Sam liked basketball. "I have to finish my report. It's worth a quarter of my grade."

"One of your honors classes?" Dean asked curiously, casually tossing the ball from one hand to another.

"Yeah."

"Dude… you _know_ you'll ace it. You _always_ ace it. A few hours of downtime can't hurt."

Sammy thought about it, chewing on his lip and looking so much like he had when he was three and trying to figure out how to tie his laces that John had the sudden urge to pinch his cheeks. But Sammy was seventeen and almost an inch taller than he was now and he didn't think that pinching his cheeks would go over well. Especially with Dean in the room. Finally the boy sighed and the moment passed. "I'm not that comfortable with the subject matter. I need to do some work on it first. Maybe next time."

Dean rolled his eyes. Dean had been a solid C student in high school and John suspected that was because he only did what he had to do to pass. School just didn't do it for him the way it did for Sam. When he applied himself in college after John encouraged him to at least try it so he could become an officer, he started pulling As and Bs. "Whatever, geek."

The younger boy smirked. "Jerk."

"I bet you'll be the only kid at Stanford who spends his weekends actually studying."

John's heart gave a painful twist at the mention of Stanford. Sam was his firstborn, and he'd be the first to leave. It shouldn't hurt so much, the idea of him not being around. But it did. Sam thought he didn't want him to become a lawyer and do his own thing. He couldn't have been further from the truth. The fact was… the fact was he felt like he was losing his son and that Sam was just the first. There were five more and they were all close enough in age that it would end up being a constant stream of loss once Sam left next fall. Mary dealt with it by living in a blissful state of denial. John was too much of a pragmatist for that. So he pretty much hated any mention of Sam actually going to Stanford even though he bragged to anyone that would listen to him for more than sixty seconds that his boy had gotten in _and_ earned a full academic scholarship at that. He was already trying to decide what to do with the money he'd set aside for Sam's education. Graduation gift or wedding present? It could make one hell of a nice down payment on a house. Maybe a car too.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Shauna curled up against him on the couch. She was thirteen and he was beginning to see hints of the woman she'd become. If it was hard think about his boys being gone, it was ten times harder to think about his girls leaving the nest. He wrapped a slightly possessive arm around her.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, angel?" He smoothed back the hair at her temple with a thumb. She was still so small, still looked up at him like he was the most important man in the world. One day far too soon she was going to be looking at some little punk like that.

"Did you like Mom when you first met her?"

John chuckled. "No. And she didn't like me either. So it was mutual."

She frowned at him. "When did you start liking her?"

John pursed his lips and thought about it. His thoughts took him back to a day that he never thought about, but that had shaped the rest of his life.

_Mary's older cousin Brad was John's best friend. If it hadn't been for that fact, or the fact that the Campbell clan was so tight knit that Brad was as likely to be found at Mary's house as his own, he never would have spent enough time around her to realize that maybe she wasn't just a gorgeous ditzy blond hippy. But she _was_ a hippy. And he was in ROTC, and chomping at the bit to go off to war once he turned eighteen. Brad was too, and they shipped out together. John came back decorated and field promoted to sergeant. Brad came back decorated too… in a flag draped coffin._

_Brad died right in front of him, right next to him, in a miserable water-filled foxhole two days before they were hastily pulled out, the country falling apart behind them. Everything they'd fought and bled and died for falling to pieces in a matter of days. Many soldiers coming back felt like they'd be betrayed, that if the politicians had done the right thing rather than allowing unrest back home to dictate policy, they could have won. Most, though, were just glad to get out alive. John had been among the former but he still understood the later. Vietnam had been a hot, wet, bug ridden hell._

_So many had died leading up to and during the evac that the system of identifying victims in the last days of the war and notifying next of kin had been hopelessly backlogged. He realized on the transport back to the States that he very well could be back to Kansas before Brad's body or even the notification letter, and he decided he wanted the Campbells to hear about Brad's death from him. He owed his friend at least that much. Between flashbacks of Brad's death and the prospect of telling his friends family about it, he was so emotionally fucked up by the time he got to Brad's house that he threw up in the bushes. Mary found him out there trying to pull himself together._

"_John?"_

_He stumbled back, slightly shaky on his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of a bare hand, his glove clutched in the other. He tucked it into his belt. "Mary… hi."_

"_You're back? Already? Don't tell me you've been drinking. Where's Brad? Passed out in the car?"_

_John shook his head, tears stinging his eyes. "Brad's… he's…"_

_Mary blinked at him, frowning. "What is it? You're scaring me."_

"_I'm so sorry."_

_Mary gasped. "No! No… not Brad. But… he just sent a letter. It came today. Aunt Sara read it to us after dinner."_

"_It happened less than a week ago. I… there's a backlog with all the paperwork. Things really went to hell towards the end and… I couldn't just come back and not tell your family. And a letter is just a horrible way to find out something like this anyway."_

"_We have to tell them." Mary took his hand in hers. He could feel the warmth of it radiating through his dress glove. He's felt calmer in the middle of a warzone with heavy artillery raining down on his head then he did standing in front of the Campbells and telling them about his best friend's last hours. But Mary stood next to him, holding his hand and radiating calm. That was the first time she had really impressed him. But it wouldn't be the last._

"She impressed me. I realized there was more to her than I thought. It's like that saying, you can't judge a book by its cover."

"So then you married her?"

"It took another six years," John said softly, smoothing back her silky blond hair, "before we actually got married. I went to college and stayed in the Corps as an officer and she worked her way through school as a waitress. But the longer I knew her the more I loved her and wanted to be with her, so I left the Corps and took a job at the garage. The rest is history."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

John folded the newspaper and tossed it aside in disgust. "The damn politicians need to stop monkeying around with the military before they break it."

"You don't think they should repeal Don't Ask Don't Tell?" Sam asked as he put more eggs on his plate.

"I think they never should have _passed_ it in the first place." John sucked at his front teeth like he had a bad taste in his mouth. "They need to let the people who have to fight and die under the decisions make them. Politics have no place in the armed forces."

"You of all people should understand why Don't Ask Don't Tell is so reprehensible. They need to at least get rid of it."

"Why _Dad_ of all people?" Michael asked, sounding confused.

Mary stopped in the middle of angrily spooning hash browns into her plate and John cleared his throat. His bisexuality was such a fact of his life that it kind of shocked him that his kids obviously didn't know despite having never been actually told.

"Your mother's talkin' about the fact that I'm bisexual, son."

John's announcement was met with complete silence around the breakfast knock. Mary had the good grace to blush as she stared down at her plate.

"You are?" Sam finally broke the silence. "Why didn't you ever say anything?" And that was Sammy. Always expecting to be told everything. As if John's sexuality somehow affected him.

"I'm a married man. Anyone I'm attracted to besides your mother should be a moot point. Just like it should be for a Marine. The Corps ain't a country club or a datin' service. It's there to protect this nation, to make sure that people are free to say and do anything they want, even if it's stupid."

"What about that woman who got kicked out for bein' a lesbian?"

"She didn't get kicked out for bein' a lesbian, kiddo. She got kicked out for bein' an idiot. She had an affair with someone's wife. That's against the honor code for everybody. That kinda crap'll get you dead in some circles, and it'll get you dishonorably discharged anywhere no matter which sex you're attracted to."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"I'm sorry John." They had finally gotten the last of the kids off to school. It was the first time Mary had spoken since outing John, and her voice was small. He could see how much she regretted it, how ashamed she felt of herself and what little annoyance he still had over it evaporated.

He shrugged and smiled reassuringly. "It's alright. No harm, no foul. It's probably good that they know. It's not somethin' I'm _ashamed_ of."

"No… it's not alright. I don't want to be this person. I love you so much. And I have never doubted that you love me. But… we've been trying to make this work for nearly twenty years now and it's just… _not_."

"It was only a slip of the tongue, Mary. You were fired up."

"It wasn't just a slip of the tongue. It's _everything_."

"What're you… what're you sayin'?"

"Maybe we need to stop trying. I want you to be happy, John. I don't make you happy."

"I love you. I want to grow old with you."

"I know that. But it's not enough. I used to think it was all that mattered. How naive was that? Because it's not the growing old part that's the problem. It's the living with each other in the meantime. We're always fighting, always hurting each other. Even in front of the kids now."

"It takes more than love. It takes hard work too. We can… we can try counseling."

She sighed softly, sounding weary. "I suppose we can."

"I'm not ready to give up on us yet. Are you?"

Mary snorted softly and laid her head on John's shoulder. "I don't know who I am anymore without you. We'll try counseling," she said, her voice sounding stronger. More sure.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"Do you know anyone who's bisexual?"

Sam's question was out of the blue and made Dean choke on his pop. Huge hands pounded against his back and he pushed the younger boy away. Sam's attempts to save him would kill him before the choking would. Dean could beat the hell out of Sam in a fair fight, and especially an unfair one, but Sam was turning into a giant with the strength to match and he felt like the kid was knocking his spine loose.

"Why'd you ask?" Dean asked hoarsely.

Sam shrugged and looked away. "Someone I thought I knew just told me that he was. I… it's just strange to think about. Being attracted to everyone."

"Only potentially." Sam frowned at him, clearly not following his point. "I mean, you're not attracted to every chick you see, right?"

"No."

"So why would a bisexual person be attracted to everyone _they_ see just 'cause they're bisexual? Bisexual isn't code for indiscriminant slut, Sam. A person who's bisexual can fall in love and be just as faithful as anyone else. It just isn't a given what sex that person will be when they find them."

Sam seemed to think it over. Finally he nodded. "Yeah. That makes sense."

"Course it does. I _always_ make sense."

The kid gave him an amused look. "Always?"

Dean gave an emphatic nod. "Even when I don't."

Sam snorted out a laugh. "So who is it?"

"Who is what?"

"The person you know who's bisexual?"

"How do you know it's not me?"

Sam started to open his mouth only for it to snap shut again before he spoke. He cocked his head at Dean and regarded him thoughtfully. "Really? I guess… I never thought about it before but it kind of makes sense."

"And why's that." Dean scowled at him. He liked the kid, but he swore that if he made a crack about how 'pretty' he was, he was going to knock him flat on his ass.

"A few things just fit. I think I saw you a couple of times with a guy you were interested in."

Dean's heart froze in his chest… he prayed that Sam hadn't figured out his crush on John. But the kid wouldn't be this calm about his best friend perving on his father, would he? He took a deep breath and tried to appear composed. "Yeah? Who?"

"That guy from my honors English class. What's his name? Murray?"

Dean nearly deflated in relief, but he forced himself not to move. "Murphy," he corrected, pasting a lecherous smile on his face. "That boy has a mouth like a damn _Hoover_. Suction that never lets you down."

Sam stared at him, wide eyed and shocked, color creeping up from his collar to his cheeks. "Dude! Seriously? I don't need to know about your sex life."

"What?" Dean said innocently. "I was just confirming your suspicions."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Unrelated, 3/9  
><strong>Art by:<strong> beelikej  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>John/Mary, John/Dean  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Total Word Count:<strong> 5027  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Explicit slash  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

_**A/N:**__ See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story._

**Chapter 3**

"I'm shippin' out tomorrow," Dean said, slightly breathless.

They were barely a hair's width apart in the middle of John's office at the shop. For half an insane second, John thought the boy was propositioning him, but then he regained his sanity. Dean was just afraid. And who wouldn't be? It was his opinion that fearlessness was just another word for stupidity. Anyone who didn't have the good sense to be afraid when they were walking into danger didn't deserve to survive it. It was impossible to be brave without fear. What was bravery if not the ability to look squarely at the consequences, understand them fully and do the right thing anyway?

John wasn't sure what was stronger, the relief or the disappointment when the insanity of the moment before was over. Dean was flushed and still a little breathless. The idea of spreading him out underneath him on his desk or the couch and making love to him, to finally learn what he tasted and felt and sounded like, was so damn tempting. But that wouldn't happen. That _couldn't_ happen, even if Dean wanted it as much as he did. He had no intention of leaving his wife, and even if he did he wasn't going to cheat on her before he ended things. He'd promised her fidelity and she deserved nothing less. If a Marine understood anything it was fidelity. He had nothing to offer Dean but his friendship and his loyalty and the boy already had that.

"Yeah, I know. It'll be okay. I know it's scary as hell… I was scared when I shipped out too. Just remember your trainin'. You… come back in one piece. You hear me, boy?"

Dean nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes sir."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

In his own defense, Dean was sure that the fear of never seeing John again had led to temporary insanity. He'd been an inch away from declaring his undying love and offering his ass up on a silver platter. _No one would know. You don't have to love me, just pretend you do just this once. Just give me somethin' to remember, something to hold on to while I'm bein' shot at out in a desert half a world away. We'll never have to talk about it again, it won't have to _mean_ anything._ The words had been on the tip of his tongue. He could practically taste them, bitter and desperate and dishonorable. In that short space of time, he would have done or said anything to get John to touch him and damned every one of the consequences. But the look on John's face had brought him back to his senses.

He knew he would shame himself in John's eyes if he ever offered something like that. That's if John hadn't taken him up on it, if he had been appalled by the very suggestion and kicked his stupid ass out of his office. It would have actually been worse if John had given him what he wanted. One of the things he loved most about the man was his loyalty and honor, the strength of his character. John was the type of man who needed to do the right thing as much as he needed to draw breath. If he threw all that away to be with Dean for a few hours then all his loyalty and honor would be worthless, his character damaged. He wouldn't actually be the man who Dean had loved all these years. Almost as bad, how would Dean ever look Mary or any of the kids in the eye again after betraying them like that?

So, while he ached for John's hands on his body, he realized that if he was ever able to beg or cajole or seduce John into doing it, even once, he'd destroy them both. Destroy the man John was and the man he himself had worked so hard to become. There was no honor in that. No loyalty to the people they both loved. He snorted softly at the irony. The things that made him love and want John the most were the same things that would always keep him from having him, even if John wanted him too.

He nodded when John told him to come back in one piece, tears stinging his eyes. "Yes sir," he'd said, as if a piece of him weren't already dying. As if he wouldn't be leaving part of himself with John. He couldn't come back in one piece, because he wouldn't be _leaving_ in one piece. He couldn't even tell John he loved him, couldn't say goodbye the way he wanted to most, with his lips and hands and body. Suddenly it all seemed too much to deal with. "I gotta go."

John reached out and pulled him into a hug, strong arms holding him close and tight. He refused to allow himself to melt, to mold his body against John's. As abruptly as he'd pulled him close, the older man pushed him away. His eyes were suspiciously moist. "Go on, get outta here kiddo. I know you got a lot to do before you leave."

Dean nodded. "My folks are comin' to see me off. Would… could you and Mary and the kids come too?"

John nodded solemnly. "We'd be honored to be there."

Dean gave him a weak smile. All he could think was that John would never know the truth. He might die and John would never know how much he loved him. There was something unbelievably sad about that.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

John could definitely see what Sam saw in Jessica Moore. She was smart, gorgeous and sweet. But something seem off about the relationship to John. It had bothered him all through dinner, and it was still bothering him as he pulled his tie off.

"I think they're too _young_," Mary was saying as she rubbed cold cream on her face.

He shrugged his shoulders. That wasn't it… that was close, but not quite it. "We've known people who were younger and stayed together. No. They've got a worse problem. They're naive. They've got no clue how much work they're signin' up for. Or that things are what they are… not what you want 'em to be."

Mary slowly wiped the cream from her face. "I'm afraid, John. I'm afraid for Sammy. And for her. She seems like such a sweet girl."

John nodded. "She does. But what do we do? We can't tell Sam not to do it. In my experience that's the surest way to make sure he does. Boy's so damn obstinate."

"Wonder where he got that from," Mary turned towards him and smiled. John always liked her best with no makeup.

He snorted out a laugh. "I have no idea."

"Sure you don't."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

The Colonel was dead. The thought raced through John's mind over and over like a dog chasing its own tail. He sat tall and straight in his dress uniform, awash in a sea of other men and women doing the same. Mostly family, but men and women who'd served under and with his father and some Campbells who'd come to pay their respects too. Their buttons, medals, swords and insignia gleamed brightly in the late afternoon sun against the deep blue of their immaculate uniforms. If it weren't for the civilian spouses and children in attendance, it would have looked like some sort of official Marine function.

John struggled to hold on to his composure. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be in his father's garden, sipping ice tea and listening to the Colonel talk about storming the beach at Iwo Jima, and how the Japanese had tricked them into thinking they were all dead until the first wave had advanced right in front of their entrenchments. How the volcanic ash that made up the Island prevented them from digging trenches and felt like quicksand underfoot and the whole thing was so horrific that they'd named the island "Hell's Acre". How he'd always been friends with their Navaho Code Talker John Eagle Feather, but that battle made them brothers.

The old man had taken up gardening in his dotage, as he called it. There had been nothing sickly about his father though. The man had passed away in his sleep, still fit and hardy. Just slipped away with no warning. And John somehow didn't feel like he was ready to be without him.

John had been named after that Code Talker his father served with, and the man had named his first born son Michael after the Colonel. The entire Eagle Feather family was there. John had grown up with Michael's children; his children had grown up with theirs. They were family to the Winchesters and always would be.

He stood on autopilot, having long since lost track of what was going on around him, clutching the flag that had draped his father's coffin as he listened to the 21 gun salute. One day this salute would be for him. Mary would be holding his flag. Or if he outlived her as his father had outlived his mother, Sammy would. Would his boy feel this way when he died? His relationship with Sammy had been stormy during Sam's teens, but time and distance had seemed to make it better. Maybe they'd be close again once the boy had a family of his own. Maybe he'd sit listening to John telling him war stories one day, the way he had when he was small and thought John had hung the moon. He'd like that. He'd like to share those things with Sam, and for Sam to treasure them the way he treasured the things that the Colonel had told him. What happened to a man in battle was sacred. He should be able to share it with his sons, especially his first.

Sam, Shauna and Andrew, in his NROTC uniform, were the only children who could make it. The rest were in warzones. He wanted them here, with him. It was a selfish wish. They had their own duties to fulfill. They didn't need to be home to mollycoddle their damn father. Mary stood next to him in her simple black dress, strong and silent, her hand on his arm. She was always there when he needed someone to lean on and he was grateful. And guilty, because his mind kept wondering to Dean. He wanted Dean here too. Wanted Dean to sit and drink with him and listen patiently while he went on and on about all the battles that his father had survived, how he'd earned his Purple Heart and Congressional Medal of Honor. How he'd been one of the few men who'd managed to survive earning it. The type of valor that it took to earn that medal would typically get the man who performed it killed. But like most Winchesters, the Colonel had been a tough old bastard who wasn't easy to kill.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Mary found her husband in his den, a bottle of Jack on the desk next to the flag that had draped his father's coffin. He was nursing a tumbler that was about one fifth full. Her heart broke for him. He was a man used to fighting, but you couldn't fight grief. Losing people always hit him hard, and losing the Colonel… John had always spoken of his father with a kind of awed reverence. He had idolized the man long after most men realize that their fathers were only human.

She took the glass from his hand, took a sip, and placed it on the desk before climbing into his lap. She felt his strong arms encircled her. She never felt safer than she did when his arms were around her. She kissed his temple and smoothed down his unruly curls. He was still wearing his dress uniform, like he was reluctant to remove it. She had to admit that as much as she disliked the military, not even she was immune to a man in uniform. Especially a man as handsome as John and who wore it the way he did. Like a priest wore his vestments, filling it out in ways that few men she knew could. The Corps was like a calling for him and while she had seen it warp lesser men, it just seemed to make him stronger. She may not believe in militaries, but she believed in her husband, in uniform and out.

He tilted his head back and she kissed him, caressing his cheek softly. "Come to bed, love."

He smiled at her, like she was the whole world. "Okay."

John let her lead him up the stairs, let her help him undress and hang his uniform back up in its garment bag. Then they made love with a slow urgency that left Mary feeling full of him, surrounded by him. He kissed her, nipped at her neck, whispered her name in a way that made her shiver. His calloused hands were gentle, like they always were with her.

"I love you, Mary." John's voice was soft in the darkness as he held her close. That was the one thing that she'd never had cause to question. From what she could tell, Winchesters loved for life. Like elephants or eagles.

She drew lazy patterns on his stomach with her fingertips as she listened to his heart slowly settling into its natural rhythm. She turned her head to press a kiss against his sweat damp skin. "I know. I love you too."

They drifted to sleep in each other's arms.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"Damn, I'm gonna miss the Colonel," Andrew said. The sweet odor of the cigars they were smoking encircled them as they sat at the picnic table in back of the house. The smell comforted Sam. His father rarely smoked, but the Colonel almost always had a cigar in his mouth. Even if they weren't lit, he chewed on them. John had given them a few of the cigars from the Colonels personal stash, and told them that as long as they kept them outside he'd keep their mom off their backs. "I swear, we shoulda taped some of the shit he'd come up with."

"Yeah, we really should have," Sam agreed, chewing on the end of his the way their grandfather used to. The whole day had felt surreal to him. It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea that he'd never see the Colonel again, never hear that raspy, booming voice. It also made him consider his own father's mortality. One day, that could be him standing at John's graveside, the way John had stood at the Colonel's. The idea made him sad. Maybe even a little frightened. Being John Winchester's son, especially his first son, was a heavy burden. The man cast a huge shadow. But the idea of not having him around anymore was not a welcome one.

"'If you've ever been in the water,'" Shauna rasped out in an imitation of her grandfather's voice, "'when a hand grenade goes off, it's like stickin' an egg beater up your butt and puttin' a wild man on the crank.'"

Everyone burst into laughter.

"'You kids these days are spoiled rotten,'" Sam piped up. "'Closest thing we had to a grenade launcher in my day was this kid from Iowa with one hellova throwin' arm.'"

"'You knew when one of them Navy boy was gettin' lucky.'" Andrew could barely keep a straight face, drawing on his cigar in an attempt to catch his breath. "'All you could hear was 'fire in the ho! Fire in the ho!'"

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

John didn't have much use for computers. That is until he learned how to use Skype. As far as he was concerned, Skype was the most awesome invention known to man. It let him talk to his three kids that were overseas. And Dean too… Dean Skyped them once a week, just like his kids did. Sometimes, John wanted to just talk to him alone, his old obsession flaring to life again. Mostly, though, he was happy to share the boy with the rest of the family. They all loved Dean too. And Dean loved them. Since he was the first to ship out, everyone was anxious to stay in touch. That had actually been the whole reason he'd learned to Skype in the first place. Sam showed up at the shop one day while he was home for winter break with a computer and a bunch of other things from best buy. John made a mental note to take the kid's name off the shop's credit card while he skeptically watched the boy set everything up.

"I have important shit on there!" He complained loudly when Sam unceremoniously dumped his old computer in the trash.

"I transferred everything." The boy sat him in front of the new one and John blinked at the colorful alien landscape on the huge flat screen.

"At least I knew how to use the old one."

Sam snorted softly. "You'll figure out this one too. Trust me. Besides, that old dinosaur couldn't Skype."

"It couldn't what?" John looked at his son over his shoulder, frowning.

"It's this new thing that allows you to talk to soldiers oversees on your computer. For free."

"You mean… we can talk to Dean?"

"Yep. And see him. He should be online in five minutes."

John looked at the new computer in awe. "Really?"

"Yes sir. You're internet connection is fast enough so all you needed was a good computer. Merry Christmas."

"What do you mean, Merry Christmas? You used my money."

"But I put it together," Sam protested, sounding injured. "And now you can talk to Dean and all the others when they go marchin' off God knows where."

John snorted softly. "Thank you, son. It's a good present."

Operation Desert Storm started not a month before Dean took the Officer's Oath and received his sword. John felt an uncomfortable rush of arrival as he remembered the day Dean shipped out, how he'd shown up in that very room, looking all flushed and breathless and beautiful. He'd been twenty three then, but he still looked like a teenager, like a baby. Too young to go off to war. But it had been almost the same path John had followed and he was damn proud of the boy. Just as proud as he'd been later when his own children had gotten their own commissions. There had been letters, every week like clockwork, but he hadn't seen Dean in months.

He could barely contain his joy at seeing that smile and those sparkling green eyes again. They spent an hour talking, and it didn't feel like enough time. He missed Dean every bit as much as he missed his kids. Dean had actually been the first to go, since he was a little older than John's kids. He hadn't realized how attached he'd gotten to the boy until he wasn't there. They skyped once a week after that, usually with at least some of the rest of the family crowded around John's desk.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Two years into Dean's NROTC training at the University of Kansas, Sam left for Stanford. After that it was a blur as each child left the nest and now Andrew was two years from being gone too. Eight years. In just eight short years, half his children and Dean were rotating in and out of Afghanistan and Iraq. He worried about all of them, every bit as much as Mary did. He wasn't quite sure how he'd deal with it if one or more of them died and really the odds were not in his favor in terms of getting them all back in one piece. John was too much of a realist not to understand that. It didn't stop him from nearly bursting with pride whenever he saw their pictures, lined up on his desk in their dress uniforms with the Stars and Strips in the background. Shauna's picture was there too with her sister and brothers. It had been taken the day of her graduation from Quantico. And because he believed in being fair and he was no less proud of what Sam had accomplished, he'd added a copy of Sam's graduation picture to the collection. It was actually first in line since it was in order of their age.

It would be another three years before Sam would be done with law school and John was relieved that he'd decided to practice in Kansas. He knew that they were all adults, and Sam could mostly likely get a higher profile job somewhere like California or New York, but John didn't like having his children any further away than a few hours' drive. Not that he'd ever tell any of them that. They needed to make their own decisions.

And it wasn't just their locations that had changed. Sam and Jessica were planning their wedding. They were just a little too saccharine together for John's taste, but if that's what Sam wanted then he was happy for him. Riley had finally figured out the whole boy thing and was serial dating. Unfortunately she was overseas in the Corps and John lived in perpetual fear that she'd get mixed up with the wrong people and end up dishonorably discharged for fraternization. Nobody in his family had ever been dishonorably discharged before. Shauna was dating one of the Eagle Feathers, which felt right to John. They were family, but not blood. It would be nice to have the families officially tied together one day.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

It was odd, being back stateside after two tours in country. It was rare for an officer to have two fourteen month tours in a row in the same place so early in his career, but the Corps was stretched a little thin and he'd distinguished himself, so Dean ended up pulling two tours in Iraq on his first deployment. It didn't hurt either that everyone kept assuming that he was somehow a Winchester. He had to tell people that he wasn't a Winchester so often that he eventually got the nickname Unrelated. He finally stopped trying to set things straight when people started asking him why he was called Unrelated. He'd just grunt and say it was 'cause he was unrelated. People gave up trying to figure it all out when they realized they weren't going to get a real answer and combat earned him a new nickname. That was a rare thing, to get a new nickname after one had already been assigned to you, and Dean was incredibly grateful. What kind of nickname was Unrelated for a Marine?

The desert had been hot and sandy, which of course was the very definition of a desert. But even so, it was really the only way to describe it. Sand got everywhere, in everything, and a person never felt like they could ever get completely clean. Being in an Abrams didn't help, the space was tight and cramped and usually overly warm despite the air con. The only time that was a plus was on the nights when the temperature dropped precipitously and it was suddenly cold and sandy. Or during a sand storm. The best damn place on earth to be during a sand storm as an A1H1 tank. He did get to know his men and, even though it was surreal to be in responsible for so many people, he earned their respect.

The weirdest thing about being back stateside was that someone thought it was a good idea to assign him to teach a class on the basics of armored warfare at Annapolis. He was nervous as hell when he started, but soon found he actually enjoyed it. The brass seemed happy with what he was doing in the classroom and nobody ever showed up to tell him that they'd made a mistake. John had been enthusiastic from the start. The man had always been his biggest cheerleader, always believing that Dean could do shit that it had never even occurred to him to try. Sam had teased him mercilessly before telling him he knew he was up for it.

It had been a long time since he'd been with a man when Robert, one of the other instructors, propositioned him. The guy turned out to be a lot subbier than he appeared and he was on his knees begging for a taste of Dean's dick almost before he got his door locked behind them.

It wasn't the world's most satisfying sex, but did the job. Robert was good with his mouth, had a nice tight ass, and clearly enjoyed cock. Afterwards, Dean lay on his bunk next to him feeling crowded and wondering what was the most tactful way to get the man to leave.

"I've wanted you to fuck me since orientation."

Dean frowned at him, he hoped that wasn't a sign that Robert wanted more than to let off a little steam. "That so?"

"Everyone said that you were straight, that they'd seen you with women… but I had a feeling about you."

"I'm bisexual. So they did see me with women." In fact he had a date later one tonight. He needed to get ready, so Robert needed to go sooner rather than later.

"Oh. Which do you like better?" he asked, sounding curious. Everyone was always curious, like he was a circus freak.

"Like 'em both about the same. Neither one's better… just different. Look, I need to get some shut eye."

"Yeah. Me too," Robert said, getting up and beginning to dress. "Let me know if you want to do that again."

After his tour at Annapolis, he took a mountain survival course. It was two weeks of hell. But he managed to survive it. After that he spent a year taking advanced classes at the Expeditionary Warfare School back at Quantico. He'd been nervous about it at first, but he seemed to have a head for tactics, operations and strategy. It wasn't like math and literature and his brain soaked it up like a sponge soaking up water.

Shauna lived nearby and he often went out with her and her boyfriend, sometimes taking a date of his own. Sean Eagle Feather – despite the girly sounding name – was a Marine too. He liked him despite himself. Shauna and Riley were like little sisters to him and his first instinct was always to put the fear of God into anyone the girls were seeing. He and John had even greeted Shauna's prom date wearing t-shirts and brandishing guns. Dean sat at the table cleaning his the entire time, never taking his eyes off the poor boy. John just stood near the fireplace and stared at the kid. Shauna was home by ten that night and didn't speak to either of them for a week. But Sean impressed him so much that he even started hoping that Shauna would marry the guy. She seemed to be pleased that he approved.

He took the desert survival course once he finished his classes. The thing kicked his ass worse than the mountain survival course and he was barely recovered by the time he was promoted and assigned to a Marine Expeditionary Unit, or MEU, and stationed in Camp Lejune.

MEUs were basically a large mixed company of units with a total of about 2,200 Marines that spent months at sea and kept ready to deploy at a moment's notice. The size and composition of the deployed force would depend on the mission. Dean was a Captain now and he was in charge of the armored units, which meant he was responsible for over 200 Marines consisting of ten tank units and nineteen amphibious assault vehicle units. His area of responsibility included billions of dollars' worth of equipment, including four Abrams tanks, six light tanks and 19 amphibious armored vehicles. In addition, he was responsible for advising the Colonel who commanded the MEU regarding armored tactics. No pressure there.

He'd spent two hours on the phone with John freaking out the night before his MEU was deployed for three months of training exercises. Once he was out in the field, though, it was like he was in the zone. He saw the scenario and he knew what needed to be done. He put the plan and contingencies together with the other unit leaders, half expecting them to suddenly realize that he didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground and get someone who did. But that never happened. He was looked at as an authority.

When his ideas worked the way he conceived of them – more or less, because nothing ever went exactly to plan or you wouldn't need contingencies – despite every hiccup imaginable being programmed into the exorcise, he had so many emotions running through him he wasn't sure how he felt. Pride, fear, relief, exhilaration. He'd emailed John that night the minute he got to his billet, telling him everything that wouldn't get him court marshaled. He went on to take part in several successful missions during his tour in MEU. Eventually, his input was even sought out when his units weren't required.

After MEU, he was deployed to Afghanistan and then back to Quantico to teach an advanced class in tank warfare. Then he was promoted to Major and deployed back to Iraq one last time. He decided he wanted to go home after that. He loved the Corps and had grown into a man there, had gained confidence through it. His promotions were coming a year or two faster than normal, and he had a feeling he could go as far as he wanted. He didn't dare hope that he could make General, but he did know he could make it to Colonel. Like John's father. But he missed home. Not Texas where he'd spent the first five years of his life and his parents had returned to. Kansas was his home. Kansas and the Winchesters. He signed up for the Individual Mobilization Augmentee (IMA) reserves and headed back to Kansas.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Unrelated, 4/9  
><strong>Art by:<strong> beelikej  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>John/Mary, John/Dean  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Total Word Count:<strong> 4525  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Explicit slash  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

_**A/N:**__ See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story._

**Chapter 4**

"Hey, old man."

John froze in mid-movement as he tightened up a bolt. That was Dean's voice, echoing slightly against the concrete walls and floor of the garage. Dean, who he hadn't seen in person in four years, who'd been making a name for himself in the Corps for the past eight. Dean who was finally back home. He looked up from the engine he'd been elbow deep in all day to see the boy – the man, now – standing in the middle of his garage wearing desert fatigues with a huge tan duffel slung over his shoulder. He was just as beautiful as ever but his features were almost devoid of all the softness of his youth. He had always been sure of himself and John could see that he still was, but this was different. It wasn't the cocksure swagger of youth anymore. It was more mature. _He_ was more mature. "Dean. Thought you'd be home with your family your first few days back."

The boy blushed and looked away. He seemed suddenly unsure and his shyness reminded John of the day they met. "I…"

"I'm glad you came, though. It's good to see you back in one piece."

"I always follow order, sir," Dean said as he met his eye again and smiled. He could see the ghosts in the boy's eyes and smile. Mementos of war. "It's good to be back in one piece. But an Abrams is probably the safest place to be in a warzone." His smile faltered. "I, uhm," he cleared his throat and fidgeted. "I heard about Michael gettin' wounded in Fallujah. How's doin'?"

John sighed. "He'll be alright. He's plannin' on stayin' in the Corps. Mary's not too happy about that." If she knew that he was in Special Forces, she'd be even less happy. It was bad enough that he was a sniper like John had been and that Robert was a Recon Marine. Riley was a pilot. It seemed that none of John's kids were content with just being a Marine, which was dangerous enough since they were invariably on the front lines. No, they had to take jobs that were dangerous even for Marines. And they were racking up the medals to prove it.

"Where is everybody?"

"Andrew's only working half days while he finishes up his last few months at Kansas. Jeremy's taking his girl out to lunch."

"You don't have another guy?"

"You _are_ my other guy."

"Yeah… but I've been away for eight years. I thought you already replaced me."

"Nope. We did have a kid for a few years, but he moved last month. Never got anyone else 'cause I knew you were comin' back."

"So… I still have my job?"

"Course you do. I'd never give away a fellow Marine's job. And I had the apartment upstairs cleaned out last week. In case you needed your own place."

Dean grinned broadly, his military composure completely forgotten. "Hell yeah!"

"Good. Hate for all that effort to be for nothin'. You can move in whenever you're ready. I expect you to be at work first thing Monday."

"That's almost a week away."

"You just got home, kiddo. Take some shore leave."

Dean nodded. "You eat yet?"

"Nope. You offerin' to buy me lunch, soldier?"

"Got almost eight full years' worth of pay burnin' a hole in my bank account."

John snorted. "Just let me finish this up and we'll go wherever you want." He told himself it was just to make sure the boy was really okay, to let him know he had someone to talk to who understood, who know how fucked up combat could make a man and wouldn't judge him. It had the added benefit of being mostly true. But he had other reasons to look forward to lunch with Dean that were much less honorable.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

When Michael got married about six months after Sam, it had been a happier occasion for both John and Mary. They felt as though Michael knew what he was getting into, and knew the girl he was going to marry. The two were comfortable with each other. But it didn't surprise him since Michael had always been his steadiest child. Quiet and serious, he'd practically been an adult before he hit double digits. John had always had to remind himself that the boy was just that… a boy. He hoped he and Mary were right about the likelihood of Michael's marriage succeeding as much as he hoped they were wrong about Sam's failing.

Then, a year after the wedding, Michael and Karen announced that they were expecting. John had spent the next six months vacillating between being excited about finally becoming a grandfather and feeling like he was far too young for some kid to be calling him grandpa. His son was deployed in the Middle East, unable to return for almost another year. Mary had gone to Camp Pendleton two weeks before the due date to help Karen out. The girl's mother had died a few years before in a car accident and with Michael gone, she was completely alone.

The minute Mary called to tell him that Karen was in labor, he booked the first flight out available. He arrived at the hospital half an hour after his first grandchild was born. It was a girl and they'd named her after Mary and Karen's mom. The hospital allowed the babies to stay in their mother's rooms.

"Do you mind?" he asked his daughter-in-law as he pointed at the tiny bundle in the crib.

"No, of course not, grandpa," she said with a small weary smile.

He smiled at that. Maybe he wouldn't mind being called that after all. He gently scooped up the tiny bundle and stared down at the little scrunched up face. "I almost forgot how tiny they start off," he said in a hushed voice. There was something about holding a baby, especially a brand new one, that made you believe in miracles.

"I know," Mary said, standing beside him and cupping the top of the baby's head. "Amazing, isn't it? Then they grow up and eat all your food and give you gray hair."

John snorted and glanced over at Karen, who'd fallen asleep. "Yeah. But the beauty of grandkids? We can spoil 'em rotten and then send 'em home when they start gettin' on our nerves. I swear I thought the Colonel had lost his mind when I saw him with Sam."

John could only stay a couple of days. Mary stayed another few weeks, until she felt comfortable leaving the first time mother on her own.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"If any of my children come back in boxes, I will _never_ forgive you."

Mary's voice was colder than he could ever remember it being before. They'd just come back from seeing Andrew off on his deployment to Afghanistan. The boy was barely twenty one and looked fifteen to John. Four of their six children were in the military, all except Sammy and Shauna. Shauna was in the FBI so that was almost as bad from Mary's prospective. But she hadn't really said anything before to let him know how badly she objected. He should have expected this, should have seen it coming a mile away.

"It was their decision to serve, Mary," he countered. It sounded like a weak excuse in the face of her anger and fear, but it was true.

"Because they knew that's what you _wanted_."

He wanted them to live with honor, and he was proud that most of their children had decided to follow his family's – and hers, quite frankly – tradition of service. She made that sound like it was his plan to send them all off to war with the hope that they would never return. "What exactly are you tryin' to say here?"

"All that talk about the Corps," she spit out the word like it was a curse, "and how every generation in your family had somebody in it, and what a great man the Colonel was."

It was bad enough that she was maligning the Corps, but attacking his father was a low blow. The Colonel's death was still raw, like a wound that threatened to never heal. Part of him felt like something of an orphan, adrift and purposeless, never mind that he had children of his own now. He was so many things, but part of him had never stopped defining himself as the Colonel's son and now that part of him wasn't sure who he was anymore. "My father _was_ a great man. He served with honor."

"Oh, there's one of your favorite words. Honor. Honor and duty. Well fuck honor and duty! I want my kids alive and safe."

"The world is only as safe as we make it."

"You can't make safety with violence!"

"You can't stop despots and madmen who want to kill us for no goddamn good reason with daisies and sing-alongs either."

"Maybe if the military industrial complex would stop killing their people and stealing their oil, they wouldn't want to hurt us."

"Mil- Are you fucking serious? I can't believe that after all these years we're still having this argument. You _know_ me; you _know_ how much I love our kids!"

"But you love the Corps more, don't you?"

"How can you say that? Nothing is more important to me than my kids."

"But they're not too important to keep out of harm's way, are they?"

"Maybe you missed it, sweetheart, but you married a _Winchester_. You're kids are Winchesters. Winchesters don't run from danger. We step up. That's who we are, who we've always been. You knew that going in. It had to occur to you that at least _some_ of them would end up in the Corps."

Mary didn't respond. She stood staring at him for a few moments like she didn't recognizing him before stalking away. He heard their bedroom door slam a few moments later and resigned himself to another night on the couch. He sighed. He didn't have the energy for this. All his children were gone somewhere. Yes, Sammy was back in town, but he was married and was trying to get established at work. He barely saw the kid despite only living about twenty minutes away from him.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

John stood in the doorway of Andrew's room and steeled himself for what he had to do. Andrew was his baby boy. Sometimes he still thought of him as that happy independent child who would insist on doing everything himself. Of all their children, this boy was the very best parts of John and Mary. But he'd come home after only six months active duty courtesy of an IUD that blew off the lower part of his right leg. Then there were the scars that covered much of his body. There was barely any trace of that baby in his son now.

At first he was afraid the kid would also have to suffer the loss of both parents as well as his leg because he was sure that Mary would kill him and land herself in jail. Especially before Andrew was well enough to be shipped home. She'd been angry, cold. Luckily it wasn't in Mary's nature to hold onto grudges, even when she had such excellent material to work with. She'd thawed slowly. Their relationship was still frosty, but he no longer half-seriously wondered if she would put rat poison in his food.

He'd left the boy to brood for a week, but he was afraid to let it go on any longer. Afraid he'd wake up one day to find that the boy had succeeded where that damn explosion had failed. He'd known men who came home wounded and ended up killing themselves. One of his uncles had done that, and his grandparents seemed to shrivel up afterwards, like they were dying a piece at a time every day. He understood why now. The idea of finding the boy dead in his bed scared the hell out of him. Woke him up in a cold sweat and made him check on him in the middle of the night.

"Andrew?" There was no answer. The boy just stared at the wall, oblivious to anything going on around him. It was still jarring and painful to see nothing where the rest of his right leg should be. John exhaled through his nose. "It's time for your rehab and prosthetic fitting appointments, kiddo."

Andrew swallowed, but still said nothing. John knew the boy was hearing him whether he wanted to or not.

"I'm not letting you lie in bed another day, son. I made you an appointment with the therapist so you can get back on your feet and we can order your prosthetics."

"Only got on foot," the boy finally said sullenly

"That's why you need a prosthetic, smart ass."

"Go away."

"Can't do that. This goes one of two ways, kiddo. You can get up, or I can get you up."

Andrew was silent for a couple of seconds, swallowing convulsively. "Everybody stares," he finally said, sounding so damn young. Too young to have been off to war at all, definitely too young to come back with half a leg missing.

"Yeah… have you seen your parents? You've got damn good genes. Of _course_ they stare."

Andrew finally looked at him. He looked haggard and sickly, like he was at the beginning stages of wasting away. There were dark blue-black smudges under his eyes that looked like he'd smeared motor oil under them. It made John's heart lurch painfully in his chest, but he showed none of it on his face. "They stare at me 'cause I'm a freak now. Because I'm _scarred_."

John sat on the edge of the bed and took one of Andrew's scarred hands in his. He'd been cut up badly by the shrapnel. Even his face had a deep gash along his temple where a piece of twisted metal would have blinded him if it had been a millimeter to the right. It was all healing, but it would take time. "Most of them will disappear on their own. We can afford to get you more surgery if you want to minimize the ones that won't, especially the one on your face. You have to give it time, son. And you're always gonna get people who stare. But you're no freak. You _earned_ those scars fightin' for your country."

"Dad…" He was crying now, curling up on himself. But it was towards John now rather than away from him.

"Their stares can only hurt you as much as you let 'em," he said as he pulled the boy into an awkward hug. "They can't make you less than what you are. Nothin' in the world can do that, not their stares or you scars or losin' your leg. You're a Winchester. And a Campbell, God help you." He let the boy cry, feeling the hot tears soaking his shirt. "That makes you a tough stubborn son of a bitch twice over. Your life ain't done yet. There is still so much left for you, so much I can't wait to see you accomplish. You lost your leg, but you can still make your mark. Find the love of a good woman, hold your first born in your arms. Do some good in the world. I'm gonna have them fit you for a special prosthetic so we can run together in the mornings, like we used to. Get your strength back."

Once the boy had finished crying his tears, he collapsed back onto the bed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffing. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You think I didn't cry after Nam? That I didn't have nightmares of my best friend dyin' right next to me?" John shuddered, still able to feel the warmth of Brad's blood splattered all over him to this day. The way it ran down his back as he carried Brad's body to the LZ, because you never left a man behind. Dead or alive.

"How do you deal with it?"

"You grieve and find ways to keep living your life."

The boy yawned wide and deep. "God, I'm tired."

"Oh, none of that, boy. We're runnin' late as it is. Get your ass up."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

When they got back from his appointment, Andrew fell asleep on the couch almost the second he collapsed onto it. He'd worked hard in therapy today and John was proud of him. He deserved the sleep. He lightly touched the bandages covering the stump of the boy's leg, careful not to wake him. They'd been able to save the knee at least, but his son would have a hard road ahead. He covered the boy up with the throw and made sure the crutches were within reach and let him rest.

"How is he?" Mary asked when he came into the kitchen. She smiled at him over her shoulder before going back to chopping vegetables and tossing them in a huge stew pot for dinner. They had been married long enough for him to recognize an olive branch when he saw one. He could only assume that his actions to get Andrew out of his room and at least trying to get his shit back together had earned him some measure of absolution in her eyes. Suddenly he realize that he'd thought maybe this time she'd never forgive him.

"Exhausted. It was a lot of work. He was out almost before his ass hit the couch." He wrapped his arms around her and was relieved when she didn't stiffen. "Speaking of ass…"

She giggled and elbowed him. "Watch yourself, Winchester."

"Want some help?"

"Nah. I'm just about done."

"Good," John said as he kissed the spot behind her ear that always made her shiver. "You'll have some time to kill while it's cookin'."

"John!"

"What?" he asked innocently. "Andrew's asleep. No one else is here. The food's gotta cook a while, right baby?"

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

John was waiting for them to tell him what was going on. They all knew, even Dean who pretty much knew everything that any of the kids knew. They apparently didn't realize that there were enough people who were either Winchesters or friends of Winchesters all throughout the Corps that he'd find out what was going on no matter how hard they tried to hide it. He knew about every accommodation, every demerit.

He never told them how he found out about things, and usually never shared what he knew, but he couldn't imagine how they thought he wouldn't find out about Riley's close call with her CO, Thomas Mullins. They'd only gotten a pass because Mullins was at the end of his last tour and the person who caught them was close to members of both sides of Riley's family.

It was a week later that he found out about the party at Mullins' house. It was the day after Thanksgiving and in a rare turn of luck everyone was home for at least part of the holidays. The boys were going and Mary was going and it took him till the day of the party to realize that they weren't going to tell him about it.

Sneaking in hadn't been hard. He kept his skills sharp with his side business. He also fit in with the other jarheads there with his jeans, black shirt and work boots. He was sitting on the couch, leisurely sipping an ice cold beer when someone finally recognized him.

"Dad?"

The room suddenly went quiet enough to hear a pin drop. John looked around. "Don't stop on account o' me."

It was apparent that his reputation – and the fact that he wasn't supposed to know about Riley and Mullins or the party – had preceded him. The room cleared quickly, leaving him with his family and Mullins. The boys, including Dean, were slowly easing their way to the back door. He could see their reflections in the glass of a lamp. He snorted. "I'll deal with you boys later."

They took their temporary reprieve and bolted.

"Don't be too hard on her, John," Mary finally said before following them.

"So, Dad," Riley said, looking like a kid who was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "This is some really great weather we're havin', huh?"

"Yeah. At least there's a good chance that when they kick your ass outta the Corps for fraternizing, it probably won't rain on you."

She went pale. "They're gonna court martial me?"

John shook his head. "No, sweetheart. But you got no idea how lucky you are. Both of you." He pinned Mullins with a glare. The boy was handsome, with a charm and swagger that reminded him of Dean. Riley had spent most of her childhood crushing on Dean and he wondered if that was the attraction, or at least the seed of it.

"I know it was stupid, Daddy." He looked at her again. She hadn't called him that in years. There were tears in her eyes. "But Tom's not goin' back and it won't happen again."

"I hope not. A dishonorable discharge will follow you for the rest of your life."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Okay, sweetheart. Give me a minute with Mullins."

She blinked at him wide-eyed. "But…"

"What do you think I'm gonna do? Kill him and bury him in the back yard? Go on, now."

She left after throwing Mullins an apologetic glance. The boy stood stock still, in full military composure. John regarded him for a while, waited for him to start sweating. "I know my wife probably thinks all this is so romantic," he finally said, "but as far as I'm concerned, you're about one step up from pond scum. You dishonored my daughter and disrespected her family."

"Yes sir… But I – I love your daughter."

"Then you got a piss poor way of showin' it."

"I'm retired now, sir. Just finished my last tour. It's not fraternization now."

"Then you shoulda waited 'til you were out. Love doesn't give you an excuse to piss on the rules and jeopardize everyone around you in the process. It doesn't give you license to shit all over your responsibilities. I ain't a huge fan of your judgment, boy."

The boy's eyes flickered toward him before they snapped back to stare straight ahead. He swallowed convulsively. "You're right, sir. What I did was wrong. I never should have put Riley in that position. I disrespected you, your family and your daughter. I'm sorry, sir."

"Words mean nothin', soldier."

The boy's head dipped slightly for a moment and his cheeks turned red. Yeah, the kid was a screw up. But maybe there was hope for him. "Yes, sir. I can't undo what I've done. I plan on marrying your daughter."

"Were you gonna come talk to me before you asked her?"

"No sir."

"Honesty. That's a good start, Marine. You just made your way up to two steps above pond scum. Congratulations."

"Thank you sir. Is it alright if I come to see you tomorrow, sir?"

"You do that, son."

John walked outside to find his family trying to look like they hadn't just been at the windows eaves dropping.

"We told her to tell you," Dean said preemptively.

"Yeah. We warned her," Andrew said with a shrug. "We just came for the free beer."

"And because we had a bet goin' on how long it was gonna take you to figure it out. Sam owes me twenty. I bet him you'd show up at the party. Everyone doubted me… but he was the only one who put money on it. Everyone else owes me other things," he said with an evil grin. John didn't really want to know what he was going to be extracting from his children.

"Yeah, but you lost the bet about whether Dad'd punch 'im," Shauna said.

"Yeah," Dean admitted sheepishly. "I thought the idiot was gonna mouth off at him. I don't think much of his judgment either."

"Dude," Michael said. "You're whoremongering was legendary in the Corps."

"Yeah, but I never screwed with the chain of command. In any sense of the word. Or with any of the enlisted soldiers."

"_Whoremongering_?" Shauna repeated incredulously. "Really Mike?"

John shook his head and walked away. But he had to admit, the beer had been good. And really, who turns down free beer? Certainly no one with the last name Winchester.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Riley was waiting for her father when he arrived to open the garage in the morning.

"I actually like the kid," he said before she could launch into her spiel on why Tom was the greatest man on earth. Second greatest, if she counted her father. But since marrying your father was gross in addition to being completely illegal, that left Tom.

Riley frowned at her father. "But you said he was a step up from _pond scum_. That's not exactly a ringing endorsement, Dad."

"Yeah. He put your career in danger. I'm your father before I'm anything else. Besides, I said he'd worked his way up another step."

"Are you gonna let me marry him or not?"

John snorted softly. "I can stop you?"

She frowned. She hated it when her father was unhappy with her. That was the whole reason she had tried to hide things from him. It had been wishful thinking, but she thought that if she told him a month or two down the line, he would never have to know how close she came to wrecking her career. Almost as bad, she was afraid that he would never give Tom a second chance. "You know what I mean!"

"Do you like this boy?"

"I _love_ him, Dad," she assured him.

"Not what I asked." He held up a hand. "Do you _like_ him? Is he the kind of guy you wouldn't mind hanging out with and havin' around your kids? Do you think you can trust him when things get tough? Is he the kind of guy that does the right thing no matter how hard it is?"

"He's a good man."

"I ain't disputin' that, sweetheart. But bein' a good man don't mean he's got honor. Or that he's dependable."

"He's not a _car_."

"No. Just the guy you wanna spend the rest o' your life with. Who's gotta love you when you get old and flabby. Who's gonna be the father of your kids. Those are things you gotta think about. Will you love him if he loses all his hair and grows a spare tire? Do you want your kids takin' after him?"

She frowned and bit her lip. She hadn't thought about any of that. "I dunno," she finally said hesitantly.

"Then you need to find out before you marry him," he said gently. "All I want is for you to find a guy you can depend on. Somebody you can trust and who'll love you the way you deserve. Love ain't a _feelin'_, sweetheart. It's the way you live."


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Unrelated, 5/9  
><strong>Art by:<strong> beelikej  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>John/Mary, John/Dean  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Total Word Count:<strong> 4095  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Explicit slash  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

_**A/N:**__ See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story._

**Chapter 5**

When he met Charlotte Andrews, Andrew didn't know if it was a bad cosmic joke or a sign. She was a fellow volunteer with the Wounded Warrior Project. She was also drop dead gorgeous. Andrew knew he didn't stand a chance, but that didn't stop him from committing everything he learned about her to memory. How she took her coffee, that she liked blueberry bagels with strawberry jam, that she had an unnatural affection for hot cereal – oatmeal, cream of wheat, co-co wheat – and often ate it for lunch.

One day, she walked up to him out of the blue. Her long, shiny curly brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun. "Are you going to ask me out, or what."

He had been so mesmerized by her clear sky blue eyes that it took him a while to process what she'd said. "Uh… what?"

"I was just wondering. My mother keeps trying to set me up with her best friend's son, but I've been waiting for you to make a move."

"R-really?"

"Yes. So are you or aren't you?"

"Yes." The word had slipped out. He felt like a deer frozen in a set of headlights, and was pretty sure he looked like one.

"Good," she said with a smile that dimpled her cheeks and showed of perfect, white teeth. "You know where to find me when you're ready."

Andrew stared after her as she walked away. Had that really just happened?

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

So, you're off active duty. You know what're you gonna do for work now?" John asked Tom casually. Once he'd finished interrogating the boy about his history and his 'intention toward his daughter,' the two had become something akin to friends. It was amazing how much fear and trembling that asking a boy who was dating your daughter what their intentions were invoked even in the most honorable of suitors. It made anyone who wasn't honorable down right petrified if it was delivered in the right way. The kids that were in town were all out at the mall. John, Sam, Andrew and Tom were the only men, and they'd managed to break off on their own and head for the food court. John had sent Sam and Andrew to get them a pizza and salad so he could have a moment alone with his potential son-in-law.

No, sir. A friend of mine has a security company and he said I have a job there if I need it. I just don't know about becoming a rent-a-cop, though. I'm tryin' to see if I can at least work for an airline, or be a private pilot for a company or somethin'."

How'd you like to come work for me?"

Tom frowned up at him. "For you? That would be great, but I'm afraid I don't know anything about cars, sir."

Who said anything about _cars_?" He handed the boy a card. "Met me there tomorrow if you're interested."

Bobby Singer?" the boy read from the card and frowned up at him. "This is a salvage yard, sir."

Yeah. That's his main business, like the garage is mine. But we've got a very lucrative side business goin'. We need a good combat pilot."

Tom blinked at him. "I'm in."

Don't you want hear our pitch first? Make sure we ain't smugglin' drugs or some shit?"

I trust you, sir."

John nodded, not sure if that made the kid smart or stupid. He supposed he'd find out soon enough which he was. "Be there at 0800 hours, son. And don't screw this up."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

It took Andrew nearly a week to talk himself into doing it. Yes, she'd said she wanted him to do it, that she'd been waiting. But he still had a hard time believing that she meant it. He asked his father for a long lunch and drove out to the State Fair, where he knew it was her shift to man a booth for the Wounded Warrior Project. "Charlotte?"

She smiled up at him. She had visited a face painter at some point who had 'transformed' her into a cat. "Charlie."

He frowned, slightly confused. "Pardon?"

"You can call me Charlie," she clarified.

"Oh… Charlie. Would you… would you have dinner with me this Saturday?" His hands were tight, sweaty fists in his pocket.

She grimaced. "Saturday's bad."

"Oh." He felt frozen in space. The only thing he felt was heat, covering his entire body, and the bit of his fingernails in his palms. What the hell had he been thinking? Maybe she meant it when she said it, but what gorgeous woman really wanted to go out with a freak like him? She'd probably thought if over and realized what a bad idea this was. He should have known better.

"But I'm free Friday," she said quickly, another bright smile lighting up her face. "That new movie's coming out this week too, isn't it?"

"Uhm, yeah. We can go see that first. Then dinner. I can pick you up around 1630 hours."

She giggled softly. "Sounds good."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"What're you so happy about?" John looked up at his wife over his reading glasses. She was humming and smiling as she got ready for bed.

"Andrew's got a date," she announced proudly.

"What? Really?" John closed his book and took off his glasses. "That's _great_."

"You sound surprised."

"I just didn't expect he'd ask anyone out yet. Men have fragile egos in the best of circumstances… I thought he'd need a little more time to work up to it."

"Apparently, the girl told him to ask her out."

John snorted. "Women. What would we do without you to tell us what to do?"

She smiled as she climbed into bed and kissed him. "It would take _forever_ for anything to actually get done, for one thing.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

It wasn't unheard of for their phone to ring in the middle of the night, but that didn't mean Sam was used to it. It still scared the holy hell out of him, sent his heart racing with the fear that something had happened to one of his brothers or sisters. Michael and Andrew had already had brushes with death and they were all insisted on throwing themselves into the most danger possible.

His mother's panicked voice at the other end of the phone when he answered didn't do anything to calm him down. He couldn't quite make out anything she was saying.

"Mom? What is it? What's wrong?" Jess sat up next to him and watched him with wide, frightened eyes.

"_It's your father!"_

"Dad?" Icy dread made him shiver. He wasn't ready to lose his father yet. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. "What happened to Dad?"

"_They took him!"_

"Took him?" So… not dead or sick – unless she meant the paramedics took him. "_Who_ took him, Mom?"

"_I… I don't… there were all these people in black with big guns. They just broke in and flashed bright lights in our faces and took your father away and searched the house. They said they were going to extradite him, Sam!"_

"Shit," he hissed softly through clenched teeth. His father had been arrested. And he'd seen the results of a government search first hand. "Do you remember what they said he's being accused of?"

There was snifling on the other end. His mother was in tears. _"Kidnapping," _she finally said._ "Sammy, you gotta find him. Your father would never kidnap anyone. He's all… he's all alone."_

"I know, Mom. Don't worry. I'll find him, okay? I'll take care of everything and I'll let you know when I find out exactly what's goin' on."

"_You… you can't let them take him away from us."_

"I won't. I promise, I won't. I'll call you back soon."

"What happened?" Jess asked as soon as he hung up the phone.

"Dad's been arrested." He was already speed dialing Shauna.

"Oh no!" She watched him for a second before getting up and opening a drawer.

"What're you doin'?" he asked just as he heard fumbling on the other end of the phone.

"_Hello? Sammy?_" His sister's sleepy voice crackled over the connection.

"I'm gonna go sit with Mary while you do your lawyer thing," Jess said as she began to pull on a pair of sweats.

"See if you can get her out of the house. It's probably a complete mess."

"_What?_" Shauna asked on the other end, sounding bewildered. A man's voice said something on her end of the call.

"Okay," Jess said as she slipped on a bra.

"Do you have a _man_ over there?"

"_Sammy… why the hell are you calling?"_

"Dad just got dragged out of bed by the feds," he told his sister.

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. "If this is a joke, it's a really bad one."

"It's not a joke. I need you to figure out what's goin' on."

"He hasn't made his phone call?"

Sam watched his wife grab her purse and keys. He put his hand over the phone. "Drive safe and call me when you get there," he said before going back to his conversation with his sister. "He might not get a phone call under the fuckin' Patriot Act, sis." His phone beeped. "Hold on." He switched over to the incoming call without waiting for an answer. "Hello?"

"_Sammy?"_

"Dad! Where the fuck are you?"

"_Federal lock up in Topeka. I invoked my right to counsel. You busy?"_

Sam snorted as he got up. "I'm on my way. Don't say a damn word 'til I get there."

"_Yes sir,"_ his father quipped, sounding tired. _"I'm gonna call your mom with my second call."_

"Good," he said as he grabbed a pair of jeans and started searching for a shirt. "She's freakin' out. Tell her you're fine, we talked and that I'm on my way, but nothin' else."

His father sighed. _"I understand, son."_

"See you soon." He switched over again as he threw the clothes he'd selected on the bed. "That was Dad."

"_So they haven't water boarded him yet?"_ she asked, sounding much more awake.

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. "Dad's in the federal lockup in Topeka. I'm on my way there now."

"_I'll let the clan know."_

"Thanks, Shauna. I'll call you after I talk to Dad. Then you can tell me who the hell your havin' a _sleepover_ with."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"I figured you'd jump at the chance to represent me, son. I'm _guilty_."

Sam's eyes went wide and John had the sudden urge to ruffle his hair. Unfortunately, he was manacled to the table. "Dad, don't actually _admit_ it!"

"I thought I was supposed to tell you everything."

Sam put his fingers in his ears and started humming Hey Jude. It was Mary's favorite song, and she'd sung it to all the kids when they were babies as a lullaby. John rolled his eyes and sagged back against his chair, waiting for his son to turn into a lawyer again. "Dad," his firstborn finally said when it was clear he wasn't going to say anything else, "do you have an alibi?"

John raised an eyebrow at him. "What? You think I got a clone wonderin' around?"

"You gotta give me somethin' here, Dad."

"The only thing I got to give you is the truth, son."

Sam slumped in his chair with a sigh. "Okay. Tell me the truth."

"There was this girl, got kidnapped by her father." John snorted, shook his head. "Smuggled her out of the country and kept her there. Son of a bitch brain washed her. Kid called her mother 'the American whore'."

"So… you were saving an innocent child?"

"That's what I do, Sammy. My hunting trips? I'm really rescuing kidnap victims. It's… it's my business. Sometimes I do pro bono work, but I do often get paid very nicely for my services. Bobby's really good at finding enough paying clients to balance things out."

"Uncle Bobby?" When John nodded, Sam slumped back against his chair with a huff. "Does _Mom_ know?"

"No… she doesn't. And she's not gonna find out from you."

San blinked at him, alarmed. "Dad, you can't honestly expect me to-"

"I honestly expect you to keep whatever the hell I tell you _privileged_."

"Why won't you let me tell Mom?"

"I swear if you were any more of a Momma's boy, you'd still be nursing."

"Dad!"

"How well do you think that'll go over? Huh? She already hated it when I was in the Corps. How do you think she's gonna take it if I tell her that I go to foreign countries and rescue people from kidnappers and risk my life and occasionally my freedom to do it?" John didn't want to think of how that would go over.

Sam rubbed his eyes. "You… have a point."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"You're a _mercenary_?" John frowned. He was going to kill Sam.

"No… that's not… I just rescued a little girl for her mother."

"That's not what the papers are saying."

Papers? What the fuck did Sammy do? "What are you talking about?"

"It's all over the papers. How you broke into this man's home and stole his daughter. How you kidnap people for a price."

"The papers are full of shit."

"Then tell me what the hell happened, John."

"A woman hired me to get her daughter back. That's all."

"She paid you to go into a foreign county and commit what could easily have been taken as an act of war."

"She paid me to go save an innocent little girl who had been kidnapped and was being abused. If that's an act of war, then hell yeah it's what I do. If you're expecting me to apologize for that, you're gonna be waitin' a long damn time." She started to get up. "Mary, the son of a bitch had convinced that child that her eyes were brown. Her eyes are as blue as yours. What if it was our kids? What if I took them from you when they were still little and turned them against you, turned them into something they weren't meant to be. How far would you go to save them? How could I ignore her pain?"

Mary sat down heavily, her hand covering her mouth. "What _about_ our kids, John? We _need_ you here. We may never see you again."

He looked away and closed his eyes, but the tears still escaped. He knew that. But service was sacrifice… he'd know that too. Had always known what could happen if he was caught. He felt one of her hands in his hair. There was a rap on the glass, a reminder not to touch. She kissed him on the forehead before she withdrew.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"Will you give your mother something for me?" John put the folded paper he'd been clutching on the table and pushed it as close to Sam as his manacles allowed. Sam nodded and took it, slipped it inside his briefcase. With any other client, he wouldn't pass along messages, but this was his father. He somehow doubted that he was giving his mother instructions on running a criminal enterprise. Knowing him as he did, the man probably just wanted to say things that he couldn't bring himself to when he knew he was being listened to.

"I'll make sure she gets it."

"I'm sorry, son."

Sam saw the tears in John's eyes despite the older man averting them. The sight choked up him. It was bad enough to see his father chained up like this, but to see him with tears in his eyes. Sure he'd nearly cried at Sam's graduation, but he was used to seeing his father get a little teary at happy occasions. What he'd never seen before was John this defeated; hell he'd never realized it was even possible. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd reached across the table and covered his father's hand with his own. He expected his father to pull away, but he didn't. "Is there anything that you haven't told me yet , Dad? Anything at all that could help us in there tomorrow?"

"You know everything now, except one thing. I fucked up. The girl was terrified. I pulled up my mask to calm her down. Only for a few seconds, but that's plenty long enough when there are cameras about."

"That's how they found you."

John nodded, squared his shoulders. "I broke protocol, now I'm payin' for it. I don't see a way out of this, son."

Sam snorted softly. "That's why you got me. There's no way in hell I'm lettin' them take you away."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"Samuel Winchester, your honor."

"You're related to the defendant?" the judge asked, peering at Sam over his half-moon glasses.

"I'm his son, sir."

"Ah. And what do you have to say for your wayward father, counselor?"

"That he was simply acting at the behest of Ms. Hassan, the mother of the so called victim. The family court in Minnesota clearly gave Ms. Hassan full legal and physical custody of the child in question. This ruling was upheld on two appeals. Mr. Hassan flouted our legal system by kidnapping the child during a scheduled visitation and taking her to a foreign nation without the consent of her custodial parent. He then sought the protection of the courts in his native country. He further abused the child by brainwashing her, as indicated by the documents submitted by psychiatrists.

"I submit to this court that due to the similar nature of Mr. Hassan's crimes, he be extradited to this country for trial if my client must go to his."

"Mr. Winchester… what has Mr. Hassan's misdeeds to do with your client's?"

"The extradition laws clearly state that the offense that a person is extradited for must be a crime in both the country of origin and the country seeking extradition. If Mr. Hassan can't be extradited, certainly my client can't be for committing the exact same offence."

The State Department lawyer sighed as he stood to his feet. "They don't recognize parental kidnapping, your honor. And in any event, it's still a different crime than _none_ parental kidnapping. That is a crime in both nations."

"But parental kidnapping is exactly what my client stands accused of."

The other lawyer scoffed. "Is defense counsel claiming his client fathered the victim?"

"No. Only that he acted as Ms. Hassan's agent in the matter of recovering her child. In doing so, my client's actions were no different than, say, Mr. Hassan's nanny or chauffer or pilot. They were all acting at the behest of the parents. Even if only one of those parents had _legal_ custody."

"Mr. Hassan automatically had legal custody in his nation of origin."

"Then that puts us on even more equal footing."

"Your honor, Mr. Winchester is arguing apples and oranges here!"

"Alright, alright. That's enough. I need to think this through. Court is adjourned." The judge banged the gavel and was gone in a swirl of robes.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"Isn't he supposed to tell us when he's comin' back?" John asked when the bailiffs come to take him back to his holding cell.

"Under normal circumstances," Sam said as he stared at the door the judge went through. He nodded at one of the bailiffs. "I want to speak to my client. Please take him to a visitation room."

Ten minutes later they were sitting across from each other. Sam took a newspaper out of his briefcase. On the first page, above the fold, was a picture of Ms. Hassan clutching her daughter, with a picture of John in the inset. "What the hell's this?"

"It's publicity. Which we desperately need. They leaked the story. We needed to get our side out there."

"Why?"

"Because the State Department is filled with idiots. They didn't even try to extradite Mr. Hassan, but now they're trying to hand you over to an Islamofascist government."

"Whoa there kiddo. You're starting to sound like me."

Sam huffed out a breath, a smile quirking his lips. "I've always agreed with you about repressive regimes. The point is, if we shed light on the situation and get people pissed off over it, maybe the rats will scurry for the shadows. I think we can win with this judge. But the trick is to make sure they don't appeal. I don't wanna keep playing Russian roulette here."

John smiled and canted his head to the side. "I appreciate that since the gun's aimed at my head."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"I've thought over the arguments long and hard. On the one hand, the defendant did break the laws of another country, laws that he could not have been ignorant of. The lengths he went to in order to conceal his actions and cover his tracks could be seen as proof of knowledge of his guilt.

"On the other, we have a father who has blatantly disregarded the laws of this country and the welfare of his child. A man without whose actions, the defendant never would have acted. In addition, the defendant was acting on the behalf of a parent. Putting this firmly in the realm of parent kidnapping-"

The State Department lawyer jumped to his feet. "You're honor-" he sputtered, red faced.

"Sit down, sir! You've had your turn to make your arguments and objections. Now it's my turn to make a ruling." The judge glared at the man until he sunk back into his seat. "As I was saying, I believe that Mr. Winchester's arguments hold the most merit. The State Department is seeking extradition of a citizen of the United States for a crime that isn't even recognized in the complaining nation. Therefor this court denies the State Department's request to extradite."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Sam met his father in back of the courthouse. "I can't quite believe that's over," John sighed out as he signed for his personal belongings.

"Yeah. And I just spoke to the opposing counsel. They aren't appealing." He was grinning from ear to ear. He knew he probably looked like an idiot, but he was high on endorphins. All his other siblings were dangerous people, carrying guns and going to warzones… but he was the one who saved his father. With his law degree.

"So… it's really over?"

"Yeah. It's really over. Try not to break any more laws, Dad."

"Yeah, okay."

Sam frowned at his father. "That must be why you never lie. You really _suck_ at it."

"Or maybe I suck at it because I've had no practice." Sam snorted and shook his head. "Son… I…"

"It's okay, Dad."

"No, let me finish, boy. You're an awesome lawyer. But… you're an even better son. You came through for me in a way no one else could have. Thank you."

Sam suddenly felt embarrassed. "You're welcome, Dad. 'S not like I was ever gonna let you rot in a foreign jail."

His father pulled him into a hug, kissing him on the cheek as he did. "I still can't believe you're this much _taller_ than me."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dad!"

"Freaking _giant_."

Sam laughed and pulled out of the hug. "Come on, Dad. Everybody's waiting for us."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"John?"

"Bobby?"

Bobby Singer snorted on the other end of the phone. The older man and his son, Robert Singer Jr. – or just Junior to everyone who knew him – made all John's specialized weapons and equipment. He was also godfather to two of John's sons and one of his best friends. Maybe the best friend he had. All the kids called him Uncle Bobby, even Dean, and they'd all learned to shoot on his gun range and shooting courses. "You'd think your business would dry up, what with you plastered all over the television. But no. I just talked to Joshua and we got clients comin' outta our asses. You got some decisions to make."

"Like?"

"Like finding someone to take point now that you can't leave the country, and whether we hire more people or send some of these clients elsewhere."

"First of all, nobody's taking point but me. And second, we got that much work?"

"I know you're a damn fool, Winchester, but even you can't be that stupid. You got charges over your head in a foreign country."

"Yeah, I noticed. But we'll just have to be careful. No more breaking protocol. I'll see what we can do about getting more boots. Maybe we can split my boys up, create a whole new team or two."


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Unrelated, 6/9  
><strong>Art by:<strong> beelikej  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>John/Mary, John/Dean  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Total Word Count:<strong> 3856  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Explicit slash  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

_**A/N:**__ See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story._

**Chapter 6**

Mary didn't know how she hadn't seen it before. It was so obvious. The way Dean clung to John just a little too long outside the courthouse and stared at him like he might disappear if he took his eyes away. The way John was just a little too stiff about the hug and nervous around the boy afterwards. It didn't take that much thought for her to realize that they'd always been like that around each other. _Always_.

The realization didn't hurt as much as she thought something like that would. Oh, it hurt. Like a knife through her heart. But it passed and left her still standing in its wake. She knew her husband. He wouldn't have an affair. He just wasn't the type to see the sense of something like that. If he wanted someone else that badly he'd leave her first. More than likely, though, he'd keep his vows and shut up about it. Suffer through it like it was a leg cramp in the middle of PT.

She watched them for weeks and became convinced that neither knew how the other felt. Dean, while he wouldn't be likely to leave John's orbit on his own, wasn't going to do anything that could remotely be considered seducing him. He was genuinely interested in the rest of the family and their welfare. He seemed to feel guilty simply for what he felt for John. The entire situation had to be hell on the poor boy.

For his part, John had turned his longing for the younger man into an art form. He kept Dean at arm's length, close enough to watch over but not close enough to touch. Gave him the same type of advice he gave his own sons, tried to help him when he felt it wouldn't keep him from being independent.

The thing she noticed most, though, was how much they had in common. How _easy_ they were together. Out of everything that seemed to make her the most jealous. She and John had been many things, but easy had never been one of them. The sex was great, had always been great even when she wasn't sure if she liked him much less loved him. John was a good lover, unselfish and far more adventurous then she ever would have thought for someone with his staunch personality. But even that couldn't be called _easy_. Simple was probably a better word. Uncomplicated. The mechanics of loving each other stripped down to their barest essentials.

But what she saw between John and Dean was easy and relaxed and comfortable. They would sit for hours watching sports or the military channel or trading war stories. It didn't matter if they were in a room full of Winchesters or alone, it made no difference. Even when they disagreed, they didn't really argue. Dean was patient with John in ways that she'd never been and accepted his shortcomings with humor and the occasional sigh and eye roll. He didn't have to have the last word. They seemed to agree on all the major things and their way of looking at things was similar enough to keep even their mild disagreements rare.

John bought a surprise trip to Arizona for their anniversary, complete with a spa weekend at the Golden Door for Mary. It was four days of heaven as she mediated and got in touch with who she was. John spent his days doing other things. Hiking, rock climbing, spelunking. Really, she couldn't imagine him participating in even a quarter of the things the spa had to offer. He'd come back to the hotel every evening happy and relaxed, more tan than he'd been the day before. They ate together and made love. Woke up in each other's arms and then went off to do the things they loved. Seperately. Mary found herself coming to a state of acceptance. She loved John. Had loved him long before she allowed herself to admit it. But she wasn't what he needed. And he wasn't what she needed either.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"The trip to Arizona was supposed to be about _us_, Mary. I'm committed to you and this marriage."

"Committed… that makes it sound like an imprisonment."

"Jesus, is that how you see us?"

She sighed. "No. But I think being a full, happy person is the greatest commitment anyone can make."

"Okay. Help me out here, sweetheart. What does that mean?"

"I think this weekend was the universe's way of helping me let you go." John frowned at her. The universe? What the fuck did the _universe_ have to do with a trip he paid for? Was the damn universe going to reimburse him? She continued before he could ask, which was probably, in retrospect, a good thing. "You had to tie yourself into a _pretzel_ half the time we were together to make sure you didn't say or do anything to upset me and ruin the weekend. We spent most of our time separated. We can't have fun with each other anymore. Even when we could, it was nothing like you and Dean."

Panic raced through him when she mentioned him and Dean in that context. Comparing the two of them to him and her. He worked hard to keep his calm. "Me and Dean?" was all he could manage and he was damn proud that he voice was steady.

"I know how you feel about him, John. It's okay."

John snorted at that. How the hell was it okay that he was lusting after someone else? Either way, it was clear that Mary knew. "No. It's not okay. But I swear _nothing_ happened between us, Mary."

She smiled sadly. "I know you would never cheat on me. Something _did_ happen, though… you're in love with him. And he's obviously in love with you."

"He's in love with _me_?" he repeated incredulously, shaking his head. "No he's not."

"Men are so dense about things like this. He looks at you like you hung the moon. He follows you around everywhere. He'll spend an entire weekend with you if you're not doing anything else. He's _mooning_ over you, John."

John snorted and shook his head. She couldn't be right. The boy brought all his girl and boy problems to him. Dean had no idea that John was obviously a perv, otherwise he'd be running the other way. "You're wrong. He just sees me as a father figure."

"Fine… but it doesn't matter. Even if it's one-sided, you're still emotionally attached to him."

"How can I fix this?"

"How long are we going to keep trying to fix things, John? Aren't you tired of this? I am."

"I can't…" He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before starting over. "Marriage isn't something you just give up on."

"Dammit John, this isn't about giving up. I'm not doing this because I don't love you enough to fight anymore. I want you to be _happy_. I thought… I thought if I just worked at it, I could make you happy. I wanted that more than anything, because I do love you so much. But I see now that I'm not the one who can. It's nobody's fault."

"You _do _make me happy. You gave me six beautiful, perfect kids. You worked just as hard to build a successful business, right there next to me. I wouldn't be the man I am without you."

"I'm not saying we never have happy moments, that there aren't good memories. That would be a lie. But even though we had a good time together this weekend, it was only because we barely said what we felt or thought for fear of arguing. That's no way to live, John."

"Maybe… maybe we can build on it."

"On treating each other like strangers? Oh, John. Since when am I the realist in this relationship?"

He snorted, his heart felt like it was breaking. "Is that what you're being? A realist?"

"I think so. I think you know I'm right too, John." She put her hand on his chest, over his heart. "If you could spend today with anyone you wanted to, who would it be?"

"Mary…" He looked away, ashamed of the answer.

"It's okay. I know the answer. I'm not gonna say it doesn't hurt. But it's okay. I think you should get to spend the day with him. Today and every other day you want without feeling ashamed or like you're cheating me."

He looked at her again, saw the tears in her beautiful blue eyes. "I love you too, baby."

"I know that. But it's not enough. It never really was. But it was a good run while it lasted."

John ran his fingers through her hair as he pulled her into a hug. "I wanted this to last forever. I swear I did."

Mary sniffed as she clung to him, and there was a suspicious moisture soaking through his shirt. "So did I. You're a good man, John Winchester. I'm glad you're the father of my children. Even if you are a trigger happy drone."

John chuckled, even though he was starting to tear up himself. "Yeah. And I'm glad you're their mother, even if you are a crazy pinko dropout."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

The dining room was so silent that you could have heard a pin drop. Silence in a room full of his kids usually made John nervous. They were all present except Sam, who was off in Nebraska working on a big murder case. The rest were there thanks to John calling in some favors so they'd all have shore leave at the same time. The papers would be ready to sign, to make the divorce official, in a few days and they wanted them to all know before that happened.

"You're _what_?" Riley finally said. Her blue eyes, so much like her mother's, were wide with shock. Riley was the only one who got Mary's blue eyes. The rest of them were different shades of hazel ranging from gray green to light brown. Each of them as an eye color as unique as each of them were. "Why?"

"It just… didn't work out." Mary said softly, looking like she was an inch from breaking out in tears.

"It just didn't work out? It's been over thirty years and all of a sudden it just didn't work out?" Shauna sounded accusing and petulant. The boys hadn't spoken up. They just sat looking shell-shocked.

John reminded himself that they were too old for this to really screw them up. It might make them a little gun shy but it wouldn't ruin them. "Your mother and I have always been different. Too different. At first we thought love was enough. We tried, honey. I swear we tried. And it worked for a long time but… now it doesn't."

"So… you just don't love her anymore?"

Wait a minute. How the hell had this gotten to be all _his_ fault? "I wish it were that easy. I don't think I could ever stop loving your mom."

"How can you just undo thirty years of marriage?"

"You can't. And I would never want to. I don't regret marrying your mother, I don't regret having any one of you. I don't…" He swallowed thickly. "I don't regret a second of it."

He felt a soft hand on his. Mary was smiling at him, tears in her eyes. Giving him comfort just like she had all those years ago when he had to tell her family about Brad. He squeezed her hand in gratitude.

"This isn't anyone's fault," she said firmly, as much to him he suspected as to their children. "We don't hate each other. We don't wish each other ill. We're not going to write any nasty tell-all books about each other or start talking about the other behind their back. I don't regret our marriage either. There was no cheating. We worked hard on to stay together and make this work, and we had a lot of good times and best of all we had all of you. Thirty two years is a good run. It's just time to move on."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"Dad! Where's Dean?" Andrew was practically bouncing with endorphins. John was getting jittery just watching him. He didn't envy the crash the poor kid was going to have. He reminded himself that his son was a grown man, a Marine officer who'd seen combat. He knew what it was to crash after an adrenaline rush. And Andrew definitely had good reason to be excited. He'd just completed his first marathon. John had decided the special prosthetic he'd bought the boy was probably the best investment he'd ever made. It was good to be able to look at Andrew and see the child he raised again.

"He had some things he had to take care of, but he saw you cross the finish line. You were awesome, kiddo. I'm proud of you." He squeezed his son's shoulder.

"Thanks Dad! Are we still goin' for pizza?"

"Of course! I just need to talk to your mother for a minute alone first."

The boy raised an eyebrow, half amused and half genuinely worried. "Okay. You sure you two don't need a referee?"

John rolled his eyes and snorted. "You ain't too big for me to take over my knee, boy."

"Alright, alright. I'm goin'." He went outside and sat on the porch swing to join his siblings. Most of them would be gone again in a few more days, but they were here now. John could hear them joking and teasing. Laughing. It made John feel a little better. Not much, but a little.

"Mary."

"John."

He handed her the envelope he was holding. "I signed 'em."

She took the envelope and stared down at it. "That was fast."

"Would you have changed your mind if I'd stalled?" She didn't answer or look up at him. That was answer enough. "I fucked up. I _know_ that. I'll never forgive myself for hurting you."

"John," she said with a sigh, "we both know how good you are at guilt. But that's not what I want. If we're gonna play the blame game, I deserve at least half of it."

"Then what _do_ you want?"

"I want to be happy. I want to see you happy. It's not about how much we love each other. I can't be at peace with Dean being between us. You can't be at peace with me getting angry over everything that makes you proud. We both deserve better than what we've been able to give each other. Neither of us could be happy like that."

"I would have never left you."

"I know. The way you felt about Dean and my anger were just really symptoms. Every time we fixed one thing, something else went wrong. I think it's time we finally took the universe's hint."

"The universe," he scoffed softly. He was sick of hearing about the fucking universe.

"We tried, John. It's not anyone's fault."

"Then why does this feel so much like a failure?"

"Because you're always too damn hard on yourself." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. "It's not like I didn't do things that hurt you too. Come on. Let's go have pizza with our kids."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"We won't be married when I file this." They were sitting in the kitchen sharing a bottle of Scotch. The house was quiet, the kids having crashed already.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking another sip. The last thing he wanted to think about was the divorce. It felt like someone was ripping his heart in two.

"But we're married now, tonight." She took his hand in hers.

He blinked at her for a moment before it dawned on him what she was saying. He let her lead him to their bedroom, leaving their glasses to be cleaned up in the morning. Once they were in their room and the door was closed behind them, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

They had so many memories here. Making their children. Kids frightened by bad dreams or lightening or that movie they weren't supposed to have watched piling into their bed in the middle of the night. Make up sex and nursing each other during illnesses. A lot of things had been hard for them, but most of the things that went on in this room had been good. This bedroom was the only place in their lives where they're problems didn't follow them and the only thing that mattered was how much they loved each other. It was fitting, if bittersweet that they would say goodbye here, like this.

Afterwards he got up and showered. After he dressed, he sat on the side of the bed. There was a lump in his throat as he looked down at her. Her hair was fanned out around her head like a halo and the light was just right, making it shine like spun gold. He lifted a lock of it from the pillow and smoothed it between thumb and forefinger. Despite everything, he loved this woman. Loved the way she smelled, the way she felt in his arms, the iron in her spine and the fire in her eyes. He missed her already, missed the special smile she had just for him. And he hadn't even left yet. "You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Yeah? You don't have to leave tonight, John. You can stay as long as you want. Until you find your own place."

"I think I need to get used to living without you." He leaned forward and kissed her softly. Walking out was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Dean came around the corner, a bat clutched in both hands, ready to bash in the skull of whoever he encountered. John froze with his beer halfway to his lips. Damn, the kid was good at moving silently now. And John was obviously rusty at knowing when he was being stalked. "Dude! You scared the hell out of me! What're you doin' here?"

"I can't be in my own shop now?"

Dean frowned at him. "You're never here this late. Plus, I saw you leave _hours_ ago. Did Mary try to feed you tofu again?" the boy raised an eyebrow in amusement, his lips quirking in a slight smirk.

"I went out to eat." John sighed softly. He might as well come clean. It wasn't like the divorce was secret. The boy was bound to find out sooner rather than later. In fact, he was shocked one of the kids hadn't told him already. They tended to tell Dean everything. "Mary and I… we're divorced."

Shame burned through him as he said the words and he looked down at the beer in his hands. Condensation beaded on the glass, a few drops fat enough to be pulled down the side by gravity. Sometimes that's how he felt. He'd fallen in love with a woman he'd started off disliking. Married her and had a houseful of kids with her only to fall in love with someone else. Once he would have said it wasn't possible to love two people, but he knew better now. He loved both Dean and Mary, in different but equal ways, and he didn't want to live without either of them. Now he didn't have either one of them. He could practically feel gravity pulling him down. Pulling him into a life of loneliness. He shook off the morose thoughts. He had never been one for thinking in metaphors, and when he did it was never a good sign.

Dean was frowning at him, alarmed. "When?"

"We filed two months ago. Signed the papers last night."

"So that's why you were here so early. With the noxious looking egg sandwich."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Dude, it looked like something Sam I Am would be hawking in a Dr. Seuss story." John almost choked on his beer at that. "I didn't know you guys were even having trouble."

"We've always had trouble… just not the lyin', cheatin', breakin' dishes kind. Other than the kids, we've never really had much in common and now that they're all off living their own lives there wasn't anything left holdin' it all together. We fight over the damn _weather_ sometimes."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too."

"You know, I've got a perfectly good couch upstairs you can sleep on."

"I don't wanna put you out."

"You wouldn't be. I wouldn't mind the company."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Mary opened to door to find the last person she expected to see standing on her front porch. He was shifting from foot to foot, his motorcycle helmet clutched in his hands. "Dean… Andrew isn't here."

"I know. I came to talk to you."

She waved him inside. "About…?" she asked as she closed to door behind him.

"John. He's crashing on my couch. I know the papers have already been signed, but it's still not too late. The two of you really love each other. I see the way he looks at you. If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Love isn't always enough. I used to think it was… but it's not."

"The kids are all gone… maybe if you tried doing things together again, just the two of you. Go out on dates or somethin'. That's what my parents do."

"We've tried all that. I know you care about us, and it's sweet, but we're okay with this. I mean, I know it's not ideal and it's painful to be separated after all these years, but we're both tired. He would've hung on until the day he died, but I want John to be happy and I don't think I'm the person to give it to him."

"But… there's gotta be somethin' you can do. You can't just give up after thirty years of marriage."

"I'm doing the only thing I can for both of us. John's already in love with someone else."

Dean snorted out a soft laugh. "John? That can't be true… I mean, he'd _never_ cheat on you. He's not like that."

"No, he wouldn't cheat. Not physically at least. But he is in love with someone else. Someone who obviously has no clue."

"Who?"

"You, Dean."

His eyes went wide and his face lost its coloring. "_Me_?" He sounded incredulous. "You can't think that I would ever-"

"I'm not accusing you of anything," she cut in quietly. She needed him to know that she didn't have any ill will towards him, that she didn't see him as some sort of home wrecker.

"Maybe you're wrong. You have to be."

"No. He admitted it. It's okay if you feel the same way. Really. John and I aren't getting back together. If the two of you can find happiness with each other, I will be the first person in your corner, rooting for you."

"I… I have to go."

She watched him flee, hoping that what she'd done was enough. Men were stubborn creatures.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Unrelated, 7/9  
><strong>Art by:<strong> beelikej  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>John/Mary, John/Dean  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Total Word Count:<strong> 3838  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Explicit slash  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

_**A/N:**__ See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story._

**Chapter 7**

Dean was still going over his conversation with Mary when he opened the door to his apartment. He knew in his gut that she was right. He'd known it all along. For years, he'd lied to himself about it because… because it was easier that way. Easier to deny himself what he wanted with every reason he could pile up between him and John. He couldn't deny it now though, not after Mary bluntly stating it the way she had. He wondered if John knew too… if John had been giving himself the same excuses, building the same wall between them.

John was up, staring at the television. But Dean could tell that he wasn't paying attention to what was on. He seemed lost in his thoughts, long legs stretched out in front of him as he slouched, thick fingers combing through curly dark brown hair. Dean was sure he'd never seen anyone look so sexy when they were all broody and slouchy. He closed the door and approached the couch, stopping just before he reached John.

"I went to see Mary."

John looked up at him in surprise. "Why'd you do that?"

Dean shrugged and looked away, suddenly feeling awkward. He'd been in warzones, commanded dangerous men. He could be smooth and charming with anyone else. Only John could reduce him to a complete spaz. "You two have a lot of years together. Kids, a life. I thought, I dunno, maybe I could help. Talk her into giving things another shot."

John snorted and went back to staring at the TV. "How'd that work out for ya?"

"I think…" Dean trailed off. His feelings were all jumbled up and confused and over it all was the weight of spending half his life in love with John. What was the right thing here? Letting John and Mary's marriage die? Trying to get them back together? What would John do if their situations were reversed? He swallowed hard and began again. "I think you could get her to take you back. If you really wanted to. Probably with a lot of groveling and _wooing _or some shit. If that's… if that's what you _want_."

"If that's what I want…" John rubbed his beard, then snorted and shook his head. "You got any idea how many shots we've given it?"

"What can one more hurt?"

"Yeah, 'cause beatin' your head against a brick wall doesn't hurt at all." John said wearily, his eyes on the television but Dean could tell he was seeing something different.

Dean knew he should just let this play out. He liked Mary, and the kids. Maybe even loved them. Not as much as he loved John, but still… he didn't think it was ever good for a home to be broken up and he definitely didn't want to see any of them hurt. But the man he'd wanted since he was a horny teenager was sitting right here in his living room, slouching on his couch like some sort of wet dream. When it came right down to it, could Dean really be that selfless?

"Fuck it," his finally hissed as he slid onto the older man's lap.

John blinked up at Dean. "What're you doin'?"

His answer was to take John's face in his hands and kiss him. After an instant of shocked stillness, the older man pushed him away and for one terrifying second he thought maybe his gut and Mary were both wrong. But then he saw the way John was looking at him. There was such naked hunger in the older man's eyes that he shivered. And fuck if he wasn't hard and aching already. Someone needed to be inside someone right the fuck now, and it didn't really matter to him who topped so much as it happened soon.

John pulled his head back down for another kiss, his strong fingers pressed against Dean's scalp. The second kiss was so much better than the first. They kissed like they were trying to devour each other, one of Dean's hands sliding back to grip the older man's hair. Their tongues fought for control, gaining and losing ground in each other's mouth, tangling around each other, teeth nipping and pulling at lips, greedily swallowing moans and grunts and pleas.

John pulled Dean's leather jacket off his shoulders and Dean lowered his arms to let him slid it off completely. After that, they tried to manhandle each other out of their clothes, fighting for every inch of bare skin, only breaking the kiss when they had to. Desire twisted almost painfully in Dean's gut, making him groan into John's mouth as they ground their erections together. The feel of John's strong calloused hands on his was driving him straight from needy to desperate. John's skin was warm and felt so damn good. He never thought he'd have this, had long since come to terms with that, and he was half afraid that he'd wake up to find that this was all a dream.

They ended up on the floor, fighting for dominance, each taking a turn holding the other down to kiss bare skin and explore with hands and tongues. Dean had no idea how he ended up on top with John on his stomach, one hand gripping John's arm behind his back in a hold and the fingers of the other covered with lube as he worked one inside the older man's tight hole.

"Always knew you were a tight ass, John," Dean snarked breathlessly as the older man's unused hole clenched around the tip of his finger.

John made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a groan. He was straining to push back against Dean's finger and that was just so damn hot to watch. Almost as hot as holding him still. John wanted him, wanted his cock. "You gonna fuck me or just talk me to death, boy?"

"Definitely gonna fuck you, baby. Gotta work you lose first. So damn _tight_." Dean leaned forward and kissed John behind his ear, then ran his tongue over the damp skin, tasting salt and John. They were both sweaty and breathing hard. Dean couldn't ever remember being this turned on, this desperate to bury his dick inside someone before. He finally let John's arm go as he began to roughly finger him open. The sounds John made when Dean worked his prostate made Dean shudder and he pressed himself against John's back, biting marks into his shoulders. Claiming him. He ran the fingers of his other hand over John's erection lightly, teasing. "Am I the only one? Tell me if I'm the only one that's ever touched you here."

"You're the only one," John rasped out. "Always topped. Fuck, Dean… sweetheart… _please_…"

Dean bit his lip and groaned, shivering at the idea of being the first to be inside that tight heat. John underneath him begging to be fucked wasn't helping matters. He ground his hard cock against the flexing muscles of John's thigh because he desperately needed friction. "Yeah, baby. Okay. 'S gonna hurt at first."

"I know."

Dean pulled his fingers free as John rose up on his hands and knees. "How do you want it, John? Want me to be gentle with you?"

John snorted. "Stop bein' such a damn smartass, kid."

When Dean retrieved a condom from the coffee table drawer where the lube had been, John snorted softly. In his haste, he tore the packet open wrong and potentially damaged the condom. He swore and grabbed the second one and opened it more carefully. If he fucked this one up, he'd have to go to his bedroom for more. He rolled it on and lined up with John's hole, pressing the spongy head against it, as he gripped John's hips and began slowly pushing his way inside. John hung his head and Dean felt his entire body tighten when the head finally breached his entrance.

"Son of a _bitch_," the older man rasped out.

Dean paused and ran his hands along the older man's his sides to sooth him. The grip on the head of his cock made him want to slam all the way in, but he wasn't going to hurt John like that. He desperately wanted this to be good for him. "I know it hurts. I swear I'll make it good if you just let me in. Just… just relax. Wanna make you feel good."

John took a couple deep breaths and Dean felt the grip of his muscles loosen up. "Keep goin'. I'm okay."

Dean began pushing in again, slowly sliding deeper inside the tight heat of John's body. He groaned as he bottomed out. "Wanted this for so long… wanted you for _years, _baby. Fuck… you're so _tight_."

John was still trembling underneath him, but he could still feel him slowly relaxing around him. "Move… please… just _move_."

Dean knew an order when he heard one. "Sir, yes sir," he muttered against John's shoulder as he pulled out and pushed back in, starting off with a slow, firm rhythm. He found John's prostate quickly, making the older man jump and cry out. He slowly sped up, his thrusts becoming harder and faster and shorter. Like he didn't want to leave John's body any more than he had to. John's trembling underneath him wasn't from pain.

"Yeah, baby boy… like that!"

Dean groaned at the endearment and reached around and began jerking John off roughly as he pounded into him. John was so fucking tight, he wasn't going to last nearly as long as he wanted to. Finally, John came, body going rigid even as the muscles surrounding Dean spasmed tightly and pulled the younger man into orgasm right along with him. They collapsed, lying in a sweaty, sticky heap.

"Damn… that was good," John finally rasped out, his voice rumbling through Dean from where they were joined back to chest.

Dean tried to laugh, but all he could muster was a sigh as he pulled out gently and flopped over onto his back next to John. "Yeah… _awesome_."

"I'm topping next time."

"Who says I bottom?"

John rolled over and pulled Dean into his arms. Usually, Dean was bigger than the men he fucked. He wasn't a small man by any means, tall and broad. But John was even taller and broader and made him feel small. Small and safe. Something about it made him want to cry and he closed his eyes against the tears stinging them. "Oh, you'll bottom for me sweetheart. Just like I'll bottom for you."

Dean couldn't argue because that was absolutely true. At least half his fantasies involved John bending him over and fucking him to within an inch of his life. "Yeah. Okay," he finally said as John pressed a kiss against his forehead.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Dean was awake when John came in, heard the other man come to the door and stand there for a few moments like he didn't know what he should do. Dean forced himself to be still, to let the choice to come in or not be John's. He should have waited in the beginning, let John come to him on his own if that's what was supposed to happen. But he'd been too eager, too desperate.

Finally John shifted and entered the room. He heard the rustle of clothing as the older man began undressing. He turned over to watch.

"What're you doin' awake?"

"Missed you. Besides, you promised to fuck me when you got back."

John snorted out a laugh. "I suppose I did."

He crawled into the bed and kissed the younger man. Dean melted against him before pulling away. "Are you sure, John? Are you sure you want to be here?"

"Where else would I want to be?"

"With Mary."

"And have the two of us go back to beatin' our heads against that brick wall?" John sighed and fell back against the bed. "I'm not gonna say it didn't break my heart to have it end. Or that it doesn't still hurt. Those would be lies. I loved Mary. But… it was hard, loving her. And I spent too much time wantin' to be somewhere else towards the end. Wasn't fair to her."

"Where else did you wanna be?" Dean asked, echoing John's previous question, a small smile on his lips. He just wanted to hear him say the words.

"Right here. With you."

Dean grinned and started to straddle him. John pushed him on his back with the weight of his body, strong hands gripping his wrists.

"Uh-uh. It's my turn now." His hot breath and deep, rumbling voice sent shivers down Dean's spine. "So much I wanna do to you. But we got time, don't we baby?"

He pressed Dean's hands against the headboard until Dean got the message and gripped it, then slid one hand down his arm, along his side and underneath the sheet bunched around his waist to take his half-hard cock in a loose, barely-there grip.

"My ass still aches, sweetheart. Fuckin' felt you all day. Couldn't stop thinkin' about you. So fuckin' sexy. Wanna taste you before I fuck you. Been a long time since I sucked cock, but damn if the thought of yours don't make my mouth water."

Dean made a brief, embarrassing noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper. John smirked down at him and he wanted to be pissed off, but he couldn't. Especially when John leaned forward and kissed him till he was breathless, then began slowly kissing and licking his way down Dean's body, stopping to tease a nipple until it was hard and red. He continued his slow torture, pulling even more embarrassing noises out of him, scrapping his teeth against ribs and swirling his tongue in his belly button.

Dean was aware that he was helplessly bucking his hips in a vain effort to fuck John's hand, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop. He was used to being in control, but John… the man knew what he was doing and he was taking him apart. The worst part about it wasn't that Dean couldn't stop it – he was sure he could – it was that he didn't _want_ to. John released his cock and gripped his hips, holding him down as the older man settled between his legs. He looked down to see a slow, sexy smile and dark eyes that sent a shiver down his back. Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head with a groan. The sight of John's mouth that close to his cock was melting his fucking brain.

"Don't do that, sweetheart," John said softly. "Look at me."

The hot breath on his cock made it jump and he gasped. "If I look, I'm gonna shoot my load."

"That's fine. You ain't the one's gotta be hard for this. 'Sides, I know how to get you goin' again. Com' on sweetheart. Wanna see you."

Dean opened his eyes just in time to see John run his tongue along the underside of his cock, and then swirl it around the head. He gave the tip an open mouthed kiss, using his tongue to tease the slit, never taking his eyes off Dean. The younger man was transfixed. He'd dreamed about sucking John's cock, about fucking John, about John fucking him… jerked off to those daydreams a thousand times since the first day he laid eyes on the older man. But, somehow, he never thought of John sucking his cock. Faced with the reality of it now, he had to admit that it was a serious lapse in judgment. All coherent thought evaporated when John sucked the head of his cock into his mouth and teased at the underside with teeth and tongue while rolling his balls in his hand. Dean came so quickly and suddenly that he didn't even have time to warn John.

Damn. That was embarrassing. "You sure you haven't done that in a while?"

"Pretty sure. My ex didn't have one." John stretched out next to him and kissed him. Dean moaned against the other man's lips at the taste of himself. "How often you bottom?"

"Not often. It's been awhile."

"Which means your ass is about as tight as mine." John kissed him softly before sliding his hand under Dean's ass and rolling him on his side so they were facing each other. He pulled the younger man's thigh over his hip and teased at Dean's asshole.

"Lube and rubbers?" John murmured against his lips.

"In the table on your side."

John turned and stretched over to grab the tube and a little foil package. Then he was back, kissing and touching him everywhere. Dean's breath caught in his throat as a slick finger slowly pressed its way inside his hole. It was intense, laying face to face on their sides like this, Dean's leg over John's thigh. He ran his fingers through the other man's hair as they kissed and shared breath. He loved John's thick, curly hair and his warm amber eyes. Dean took deep breaths and willed himself to open to the thick finger invading him.

"John, baby… _fuck_…"

"Gettin' there, sweetheart. Wanted to fuck you for so long… used to imagine what it would be like to be inside you. Have you spread out for me, slowly split you open on my cock. You got any idea how fuckin' _gorgeous_ you are?"

Dean groaned as John added a second finger, the low dirty rumble of the older man's voice doing as much to undo him as his fingers. There had been a few men who treated him like a girl when they'd fucked him and he always hated it. But this was different. This was something he'd never experienced before. It was making him feel broken open and vulnerable. It was scaring the shit out of him. Not enough to make him push John away. Not enough to ever make him do that. He gasped against John's neck as the older man scissored his fingers, stretching his tight entrance. He was fully hard again and throbbing, their cocks brushing gently against each other. When he tried to increase the friction, John wouldn't let him, holding him still. He whimpered in frustration.

"Please, just fuck me… need you, baby," Dean whispered, his lips tracing along John's pulse point.

John kissed the side of his face as he twisted his fingers and withdrew them. Dean felt the head of John's cock pressing against him until it finally breached his entrance and John slowly entered him. Dean clung to him, his face pressed against the crook of the older man's neck. He breathed in John's scent, felt surrounded by the man.

John controlled the pace with an iron grip on his hips that he knew was going to leave bruises, fucking him slow and deep. Dean's fingers dug into broad shoulders as he rolled his hips. The idea of wearing John's bruises, the way John was wearing his made him moan.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" Dean muttered.

"Feel so damn good. Your ass, sweetheart…"

Dean groaned, feeling a second orgasm building. John pulled him into a kiss. Dean wasn't sure how long they lay there fucking and kissing. It was like they were in some sort of alternate reality where time moved differently. Part of him was going crazy with the need to cum, but part of him never wanted this to end, never wanted John to stop fucking him. He wanted John to stay in him forever. Finally John pulled away and looked at him.

"Gonna cum on my dick, baby?"

Dean couldn't force words out of his mouth. He bit his lip and nodded.

"Yeah? Com' on. You're so damn _tight_. Wanna see how hard you squeeze me."

Dean's orgasm made almost every muscle in his body spasm. John's steady rhythm faltered and he groaned out a curse shortly afterwards. Dean buried his face against John's neck again, his muscles actually aching from how hard he came, as John pulled out of him gently. He felt the older man moving as he assumed he tossed the condom in the trash next to the bed before he pulled Dean tighter against him.

They lay there for several minutes in silence, clinging to each other. Finally, John spoke, his voice soft and hoarse. "Sweetheart?"

Dean snorted against John's sweat damp shoulder. "You're the only one who's ever called me that."

"You want me to stop?"

He didn't speak or move for a long moment, John silent and patient beneath him. Finally he pulled away enough to look at John's face in the dim light coming from a nearby street lamp. "No… I don't."

"Good," John said with a slight smile, running the backs of the fingers of one hand down the side of Dean's face. "'Cause I wasn't gonna stop anyway."

Dean snorted out a laugh and dropped his head on the older man's shoulder.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"You knew, didn't you?"

John looked up from the computer analysis report he was looking at to see Dean leaning in the doorway of his office. It was after hours and he would really much rather be upstairs fucking the kid's brains out. He wanted to stretch him out on their bed and take him apart. Instead he was here burning the midnight oil, being _responsible_.

He raised an eyebrow at the cryptic remark. "Knew what?"

"That I wanted you since the first time that I saw you."

John shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Nah, I guess not. Just wonderin' how fuckin' pathetic I was."

John chuckled and had to stop himself when Dean blushed. "Baby boy… I wanted you just as much, for just as long. Had to do a lot of creative denial to convince myself I had no chance just to keep my hands to myself."

"Yeah," he asked, sounding a little breathless.

"Yeah. I was so good at it I think I finally convinced myself that it was true. But I still needed to be near you," he said softly as he pushed himself from the edge of his desk and closed the distance between them. He put a hand on Dean's waist and tugged until they were flush against each other. The boy's eyes fluttered and he groaned when their dicks pressed together. John huffed out a breath. Dean was so responsive… so _sensual_.

"I suppose this means you wanna fuck me now," Dean said, trying hard to sound put upon.

"I wanna bury myself inside you and never come out," John growled against his lips.

Dean shivered against him and slid his hand up his chest slowly and curled it around the back of his neck. "Yeah. I'd like that."

The kiss started out slow and sweet and quickly turned desperate. John pulled away. "Yeah. Let's close up and go upstairs. You can explain to me why they have to ruin perfectly good cars with computer systems tomorrow."


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** Unrelated, 8/9  
><strong>Art by:<strong> beelikej  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>John/Mary, John/Dean  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Total Word Count:<strong> 4623  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Explicit slash  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

_**A/N:**__ See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story._

**Chapter 8**

"So… you and _Dean_?" Sam wasn't sure how he felt about that. Dean had been like a big brother to him for years. In a lot of ways he still looked up to him, even if he was jealous of how much he and John had in common, how much time more time John was willing to spend with Dean. At the time he'd thought that John wished Dean was his oldest son rather than Sam, but now he wondered.

"Yeah."

"You know you're old enough to be his father, right?"

"He's a grown man, Sam. Commanded armored units. Saw combat, earned medals. He's hardly a child I lured into my car with a pocket full of candy."

"How long was this going on? Is this why you left Mom?"

Why the hell did all the kids seem to think he left Mary? It was slightly depressing that they didn't seem to know him better than that. "It wasn't Dean that broke us up, Sammy. There were a lot of things wrong with our marriage. Things we tried to ignore for years. I didn't leave her, and she didn't leave me. We sat down like two adults and decided that things weren't working, that we'd tried everything that there was to try. There comes a time when… you just want some peace." He sighed when he realized that he was quoting Mary.

"You couldn't have peace with Mom?"

John sighed. "No. I mean, I can now, but living together… that was just askin' for trouble. I'm not even sure how we fell in love with each other to begin with."

"But you don't love each other anymore?"

John snorted softly and shook his head, feeling much more sad than amused. This felt like déjà vu. He wished Sam had been there when they told the other kids. It would have been so much easier that way. "Simple answer is I fucked up, Sammy. I love our mother just as much now as I did when I married her. More, actually. She's the mother of my children. We shared a life. Built a business. I shouldn't've started anything new until I was over her. That wasn't fair to Dean."

"Then why did you?"

"I fell in love with Dean a long time ago. Nothing ever happened between us, but it was there. After the divorce I was hurting and he was there and… like I said, it was stupid of me to move so quickly. But I can't go back and undo it." He didn't want to go back. Despite everything, things were good with Dean. And he was happy, just like Mary predicted. He didn't know if it would stay this way, but it was nice to have this now.

"Maybe I'm slow, but I just still don't understand why the divorce happened in the first place. I mean… if you didn't leave Mom to be with Dean, then why?"

"We can't have a discussion without it turning into an argument anymore. I see black and she sees white."

"So it was Mom's fault?"

"No! I never said that. We _tried_, Sam. We tried for damn near thirty years. We went to counseling, retreats, dated. But as hard as we tried, as much as we love each other, our marriage was on life support. Then I fell in love with Dean and the marriage couldn't survive that. But looking back, it was just… time to let it go. To let each other go. You kids are adults now, you don't need a stable home the way you did when you were younger."

"So… This thing with Dean is serious?"

"My feelings for him are. I believe his for me are too. Whether it'll work out, only time will tell."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

When he heard the knock at the door, he thought maybe John had forgotten his keys. He was stunned to see Mary. He wondered if this was how she felt when he'd shown up at her doorstep two weeks previously.

"Hi, Dean," she said and gave him a bright smile. "Can we talk?"

"Uhm, sure. Come in." He moved to let her enter and closed the door. He followed her to the living room. "You want something to drink? We got water, beer, iced tea and, oh, _beer_."

"Just water, thanks."

He poured her a glass of water from the big water filter pitcher in the fridge and brought it back to the living room. She was sitting on the couch, which freaked him out a little after all the things he'd done on it with her ex-husband over the past couple of weeks. "Here you go."

"Thank you," she took a sip and waited for him to sit down in the recliner. "You haven't been by the house lately."

That was the last thing he expected her to say. He frowned at her. "I… didn't think you'd want me there after… everything."

Mary leaned forward and covered his hand with her own. "I meant it when I said it was okay. I'm not gonna lie to you Dean. I love John and I wish that it had been me who could've made him happy. But I tried for thirty years and couldn't manage it. It was time for both of us to move on. I love him enough to be happy that he's finally happy."

He frowned deepened. How could she be so nice to him? He didn't deserve it. And how did she know that he was making John happy? John didn't seem happy to him. At least not all the time. Sometimes Dean thought he was, and then he'd get all silent and broody and he knew the older man was thinking about Mary. About his old life. "But you ended up alone."

She smiled. "I'm happy right now. Content with myself, finding my center. My balance. I'd like to eventually be happy with someone else, but I'm in no hurry."

Dean snorted and shook his head. "How can you be like this? I'd _hate_ me if I were you."

"I love you, Dean. Before I even met you, when Sam told me you saved him that day. You could have just let it happen, like everyone else. You could have thrown yourself at John while we were married, but that's not who you are. You have a good heart. I could never hate you. Andrew misses you too. Just come by. Spend some time with him again. John is still the father of my children, and you have been a part of my family for too many years to just walk away now."

"I don't... do you really thing that's a good idea?"

"Of course it is! I'll tell you what. Why don't you and John come by a week from today for dinner?"

He bit his lip. He wasn't even sure if he would be seeing John today. He was always surprised when the man came back every day. "I'll ask him."

"Good. I'll make your favorite."

He sat staring at the space she'd vacated for several minutes after she left. She was like some sort of freaking saint or something. How the hell was he supposed to compete with that?

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

John had burst into Dr. Howitzer's office, insisting on seeing him. He hadn't seen the councilor since he and Mary's last session, a few days before she filed for divorce. The man had graciously agreed to see him for a few minutes between sessions. He must have been shocked. John wasn't exactly big on sharing and caring.

"I'm having sex with Dean," he blurted out. Why waste time hymning and hawing? This is why he'd come, what he needed to hear advice about.

"Oh. Okay." The man was watching him with slight amusement as he paced back and forth.

"I'm afraid that this is gonna end up like my marriage did. I love him. I can't lose him the way I lost Mary. It felt like my heart was being ripped in two when Mary divorced me. It still feels that way sometimes. I can't go through that a second time, doc."

"Dean isn't Mary, is he?"

"No… he's not. I mean, they have some things in common. Some of the things I loved best about Mary I can see in him. The way they're both so in the moment, and so fierce about protecting the people they love. But he's not her."

"So why would your relationship with him be the same as yours with her?"

"Me."

"It's true that people tend to repeat the same mistakes in relationships… but it's not always true. I don't think you should cut yourself off from love and happiness just because the last time didn't work out."

"You don't think this is too soon? I mean… the ink's barely dry on the divorce papers."

The doctor's lips quirked in a slight smile. "That could be problematic. You haven't given yourself time to heal, to figure out who you are outside of your marriage. But it doesn't have to be catastrophic. Be honest with him and yourself. Take things as they come. You two might well make a go of it."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

After his talk with the doctor, John had gone for a long walk. He ended up at a playground that was much like the one he and Mary had taken the kids when they were young. He sat on a bench and watched the parents. That had been them once upon a time. Him and Mary. He felt tears sting his eyes. It was so unfair to Dean that he let their relationship move so fast when he was anything but okay. The doc had been right. He needed to talk to Dean about it. He snorted softly. Neither one of them was the type for sharing and caring. He briefly considered calling Sammy for some pointers. But no. He just needed to man up, he thought as he retraced his steps back to his car and went home.

He found Dean in the living room going through his impressive collection of DVDs. Impressive mostly because only about half of them were porn. "There you are," he said looking up from his search with a smile that lit up the room. "I was just about to order pizza. I was waitin' to see what you wanted on it."

The kid shrugged but didn't answer. "I was also tryin' to find us a movie, just in case you wanted to watch somethin'."

"Why didn't you just call me? I left my phone on." He'd made sure he had, just in case Dean needed him for anything.

The kid shrugged but didn't answer. "I was also tryin' to find us a movie, just in case you wanted to watch somethin'."

John frowned. Had the kid been afraid that he wasn't coming back? Now that he thought about it, Dean never asked him about his plans and he always seemed relieved when John showed up if they didn't come upstairs together. He huffed out a soft breath. Weren't they a pair? "That would be nice. Dean, we need to talk."

He looked back down at the DVDs. "Can we not and say we did?"

"No." John sat down and looked up at him expectantly. The boy looked like a deer in the headlights. "Please?"

Dean put the movies down and sat on the couch next to John. "Okay."

"I love you." John held up his hand to forestall a response. "I didn't say that to get you to say it back. I just need you to understand that this isn't just a fling for me. I'm not usin' you to ease the pain of my divorce. I… I had no idea that you were even attracted to me, otherwise I wouldn't have come here when I moved out."

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to be here."

"That's not what I meant. I want to be here, I want to be with you. But I don't want this to be a rebound relationship. I want this to last and if I'd known that this was even a _remote_ possibility, I would have taken it slow and done things right. I just got out of a relationship with someone I loved and expected to spend the rest of my life with. I don't want to end up blowing this too because I didn't get over what happened with Mary before I started something with you."

"So… what does that mean?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. I don't do casual sex and I don't do temporary. I sure as hell don't want either with you."

Dean chuckled, but it was anything but amused. The boy looked vulnerable in a way John had never seen him. "I do both. A _lot_. But I don't want that with you either. I've wanted you since the first time I saw you. You smiled at me and…" he trailed off with a one-shouldered shrug. "I was done for. I've been in love with you for most of my life."

"I'm not over Mary yet. I don't know how long it's gonna take for me to be."

"I know. Knew that when I jumped you. Knew it was a stupid, _selfish_ thing to do… but there you were, on my couch and I just couldn't make myself walk away. I still can't. So it takes as long as it takes. 'M in this John. For as long as you are."

"Yeah. Okay." He reached over and stroked Dean's short sandy hair. Dean leaned forward and kissed him. He was never, ever going to get sick of kissing Dean.

"Wanna fuck you, John."

"Yeah? What's takin' you?"

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Sam had promised himself that he wouldn't say anything. He'd promised Jess too, when they'd been getting ready earlier. But he couldn't stand listening to everyone talking and laughing like nothing had happened or, worse, like what had happened was perfectly okay. Dean had started out nervous but that nervousness was fading quickly. Yes, his father had said that the marriage had died of natural causes, but John had basically moved in with Dean the day after the papers were signed. It was obscene to watch Mary and the rest of the family treating him like they always had, after what he'd done. He sat there at the dinner table, becoming more and more angry until he couldn't stand it anymore.

"You were supposed to be my _friend_, Dean," his voice cut through the chatter and everyone stared at him, horrified and silent. Even he was surprised by what he said. He hadn't meant to speak. But he couldn't stop himself. "Was this really your plan all along?"

Dean glared at him. "Yes, Sam. This was my dastardly seventeen year plan. You figured it all out."

"So you're just gonna sit there and deny that you were harboring feelings for my father the entire time you were _pretending_ to be my friend and acting like you gave a _damn_ about my mother?"

"Sam!" John barked. "That's enough!"

"I… this was a mistake." Dean stood up and bolted from the room.

"Dean," Mary called after him, but the only thing that could be heard was the back door opening and closing.

"I'll go see about him," John said as he stood up and followed him.

"See if you can get him to come back. I'll take care of this one." She pinned their oldest with a withering stare.

"Mom-"

Mary cut him off with an upraised hand, her blue eyes blazing. "Dean is a guest in _my_ house and you will not disrespect him again, do you understand me?"

"I know you're big on the whole forgiveness and understanding thing, but he broke up your marriage."

"He did no such thing! Dean's a good boy. I know John's been falling on his sword about this, but I'm the one who filed for divorce over his objections and then I practically shoved them into each other's arms!"

"You what? Why?"

"Have you ever seen your father smile this much before? Dean makes him happy in ways that I couldn't. I want that for him."

"What about you?"

"I want that for me too. It'll come when it's supposed to. When they come back, you're going to be civil and apologize."

John finally returned. "He won't come back. We probably should have given this more time."

"I'll go get him," Sam sad with a sigh. "I owe him an apology anyway."

Sam found Dean in the driveway leaning against the Impala.

"Can we not do this tonight, Sam?"

"I just came to say I'm sorry. You're my best friend. I should know you better than that. You wouldn't do what I accused you of. Not least of all because you have the attention span of a _gnat_."

Dean laughed. "You have to be a bitch even when you apologize, don't you?"

"It's part of my charm."

"I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because I'm adorable and you're too much of a jerk to be picky when it comes to friends. Seriously though, man. I really am sorry. You're too good a person and a friend to do what I accused you of. Dad is too. Mom might be certifiable though."

"Yeah. But at least she's the awesome kind of crazy."

Sam nodded, smiling. "She is awesome, isn't she?"

"You were just tryin' to protect her, man. I respect that."

"So, we're good?"

Dean sighed and nodded in the darkness. "Yeah, we're good."

It amazed him, how quickly his mother and Dean could forgive and let things go. He wished he had that gift. "Then, come on, dude. Our food is gettin' cold."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"Geezus, Winchester, slow the hell down! First you're married, then you're divorced, now you're gay. What's next? Changin' your name to Ginger and learnin' to walk in heals?"

"I'm bisexual, Bobby. Always have been."

"Still… up 'til just now I thought Dean was one of your kids. He's not, right?"

"Of course he's not! You've known all my kids since they were born. How the hell could you possibly think Dean was one of 'em? You think I kept him in the cellar for seventeen years?"

"I dunno. You got so damn many kids."

"You're a senile old bastard, is what I think."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"She's _dating_?" John looked over from the car he was working on. All he could see of his youngest was his legs… well his leg and his prosthesis sticking out from underneath an SUV.

"Yeah. You're livin' with someone. Mom can date." There was no heat in his words. Andrew had always been the easiest to get along with out of all his children. But since he'd been wounded, he was damn near sainthood.

"Never said she couldn't, son. Just took me by surprise. She didn't say anything about it. So who is this guy?"

"He's a lawyer and he's Spanish. Some guy that worked with Sam on the Innocence Project."

"The Innocence Project?" John snorted softly. "Figures."

"Why?"

"Guy like that… more her speed."

"She was talkin' about having you and Dean over for dinner. Probably when she was gonna tell you. I live with her, so I end up seeing way more than I want to."

"Maybe it's time you found your own place. Spread your wings a little."

"I thought about it. But I don't want to leave Mom alone…"

"I could see your point if she needed her diapers changed and help remembering not to put her dentures in the microwave… but I think she could use the privacy. So could you."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

John decided to swing by Mary's on the way home from the airfield to pick up the tools he'd left behind the previous week. She'd had a leaky pipe in the master bath and he'd fixed it for her. He left a few tools behind and shown her what to do just in case it needed adjusting. She'd left a message for him that he could come pick them up while she was out of town for the weekend.

"Tell her I said hi," Dean said from the passenger seat, barely cracking an eye open.

"You're not comin' in to say it yourself? You know she's just likely to come out."

Half Dean's face was swallowed in a yawn. "I can live with that," the boy murmured. The mission had worn the poor kid out.

John snorted and left him there. He let himself into the back door and yelled for Mary or Andrew and got no answer, so he went upstairs and to the end of the hall. When he entered the bedroom, movement caught his eye and he turned to get an eyeful of a very naked Mary in bed with a very naked man that he hoped was the guy Andrew was talking about. He was still trying to figure out how to react when they noticed him. the man rolled over and scrambled back against the headboard, giving John a far too clear view of, well, _everything_. Mary let out a startled yelp.

"Oh! Whoa!" John turned his back and closed his eyes. He did not need to see Mary doing _that_ with anyone.

"John!" She said in a squeaky, high-pitched voice.

"Mary… uh… I just came to grab my tools. Nobody answered when I called out and I thought you were gone for the weekend already."

"It's okay. You can look now."

"Yeah, now that the image is imprinted on my _retinas_. I'm just gonna grab my tools from the master bath and be outta your hair."

When he returned to the Impala, slamming the door behind him. Dean''s head shot up and he looked around before studying his face and frowning at him. "What the hell's wrong with you, man?"

"I just saw Mary and what's his face…" he trailed off, feeling his face burning as he blushed. He ran a hand down his face and sighed. "I saw way more of him then I ever wanted to see."

He snorted and let his head fall back against the headrest. "That's funny. I always thought it would be Mary walking in on us fucking in the garage, what with your inability to keep your hands to yourself."

"Right," John scoffed as he turned the key into the ignition. His baby immediately roared to life. "Like you're any better."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

The problem with his marriage had been that he and Mary were too different. It wasn't just the differences in their personalities. They were polar opposites when it came to what they believed in, what they valued (aside from each other and the kids). She was a vegetarian with occasional flirtations with veganism. He refused to give up red meat. Once, they had a four day argument because she decided to serve tofu turkey for Thanksgiving. She was a pacifist while John was a proud of his service. She'd been upset when four of their six kids decided to follow their father into the Corp and a fifth become an FBI agent. He'd been pleased that the long tradition of Winchesters serving their country would continue. Even basic decisions on how to raise their children were known to start arguments. She believed in allowing the kids to be 'partners' in their own 'development.' John was, like his own father, a disciplinarian who believed that if kids were qualified to make their own decisions, they wouldn't need parents. The list was long and varied, everyday seeming to turn up another thing about which they would never see eye to eye.

He and Dean, on the other hand, brought a completely different worry. He was afraid that they were too much alike. They both preferred topping, Dean having rarely bottomed and John having never bottomed before. They were both pigheaded and stubborn; both were apt to ignore a problem they didn't feel equipped to deal with until it either went away or – more likely – spiraled completely out of control. They agreed that most people didn't know their own asses from a hole in the ground and graciously excused each other from that category. At least most of the time.

He kept waiting for the arguments, for the thing that neither of them would bend for to rear its ugly head. But it never did. Even when they argued, it always ended with some sort of agreement, or compromise. Arguments were actually uncommon, because it was a rare day when Dean didn't just cheerfully let John do whatever he wanted like John having his way was the how the world was meant to function. The one thing Dean insisted on when they did argue, though, was make up sex. He always said that an argument wasn't officially over until they were naked, sweaty and sticky.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

John collapsed breathlessly on top of Dean. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Dean gasped.

John moved to sit up, but his dog tags were tangled with Dean's.

"How the hell…"

Dean slipped the chain over his head, and the whole tangled mess swung from John's neck. He sat up and pulled his own over his head and went to work untangling them, Dean watching in amusement as he sipped his previously neglected beer. Once he finished, John looked at the tags to see which was which. He started to hand Dean his back, but changed his mind mid-motion and offered Dean his own instead. The boy's eyes flickered from the dog tags up to John and back again before he took the offered tags and put them around his neck without comment. John smirked slightly as he put Dean's on. The message was simple. Dog tags told who you were or, in this case, who you belonged to.

"Good thing this couch is leather," John said as he grabbed Dean's beer and took a long pull before handing it back.

"That's _why_ it's leather. Easy to clean up." Dean wiggled his eyebrows at him.

John rolled his eyes. "Slut," he said affectionately, kissing the younger man on the forehead and pulling him close.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Dean walked into the room frowning down at his phone. "I just got a text message from Mary."

"You too?"

"You think she really believes this?"

John snorted but didn't look up from his book. Dean loved how sexy he looked with his reading glasses on. "That 'god is in her, as her'? I suspect so."

"Oh." He paused for a moment. "That explains a lot, actually."

I told you not to get her that damn Eat, Pray, Love gift package for Christmas."

Dean smirked at him. "You know, you really should wear those to bed. You can be the stern professor and I can be the naughty student."

John gave him a heated look over the tops of his glasses. "Who says I wanna top tonight?"

Dean bit his lip. It slowly slid out of the grip of his teeth as he smiled. "Even better. You can grade me on how well I fuck you."

"You honestly expect me to go back to my book after all that?"

He shook his head slowly, grin widening "Nope."

He could feel John's eyes on him as he walked to their bedroom, pulling off his shirt as he went. He heard a faint snort and then the sound of the older man's soft footfall as he followed him. Once John closed the door behind them, he turned and pushed the older man against it, his thigh pressed between his legs. John went lax, let him do what he wanted. "Damn," Dean whispered against his lips. "Somebody's in a subby mood tonight."

"Yeah," John agreed good naturedly, his cheeks dimpling as he grinned. "What're you gonna do about it, boy?"

Dean bit back a whimper and kissed the older man.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** Unrelated, 9/9  
><strong>Art by:<strong> beelikej  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>John/Mary, John/Dean  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Total Word Count:<strong> 5079  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Explicit slash  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> If only John and Dean were mine... *sigh*

_**A/N:**__ See all the great art, along with all my other stories on my LJ (john-n-dean dot livejournal dot com). Dean is not a Winchester in this story._

**Chapter 9**

"Thanks for doin' this for me, Sammy."

Sam sighed. He had long since given up trying to get his father to stop calling him Sammy, but it still annoyed him sometimes. "You sure about this?"

"We've been together for four years. You think it's fair that if somethin' happened to me, he'd have no say in the matter?"

"Why don't the two of you just go to a gay marriage state and get married?"

"We don't need to."

"You don't believe in gay marriage, do you?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Name one thing that marriage would give us that this paperwork doesn't?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothin' I guess. Except maybe a reason to have a big party."

"Exactly. Besides, who needs a reason to have a party with Dean around? Just put him in a room full of people and let him go. Instant party. So what's your point, kiddo?"

"What about Dean? Maybe he doesn't feel the same way."

"He'd do it if I wanted to, but Dean doesn't care about that type of shit. Besides, marriage is to protect women and children. Neither one of us is the former and we're not plannin' on havin' any of the latter."

Sam laughed and shook his head. "You are a complete paradox, Dad."

"I live to perplex you, Sammy."

He snorted softly as he closed his briefcase. "The sad part is, I think you're only half joking."

"Why don't you stay a while? We need a witness."

"I don't know."

"I wanna spend some time with my firstborn."

"Yeah. Okay."

His father seemed to relax completely for the first time, settling back in his seat. Like Sam's agreement to spend some time with him was a relief. It made him feel guilty. He had been neglecting his father lately. He'd been neglecting a lot of things lately. "So… how's everything going? Home, work?"

"Home's fine. Jess is… well. Work's stressful."

"I never subscribed to the idea that work should be stressful."

"You? The Marine?"

"That ain't work, boy… that's _service_. The whole purpose of service is sacrifice"

"And what I do is service too. Everyone's guaranteed legal representation under the Constitution."

John held up his hands in surrender. "Fair enough. I'm honestly not tryin' to start a fight here, kiddo. I just… I wish you'd take some time to enjoy your life. Lately, it seems all you do is work. That's not good for you or your marriage."

Sam relaxed into his own chair, realizing that he was being overly sensitive. His father had never been tactful and he'd only gotten blunter with age. It had only been recently that he'd come to understand that it was nothing personal. If anything, the fact that John spoke with him so frankly was a sign of affection. The older man usually considered most people too stupid or too foolish to waste the benefit of his counsel on. "Yeah. I've been meaning to take some time, but things keep coming up."

"They always will. Do or do not, son."

Sam snorted softly and frowned in amusement at his father. "What? You're quoting Yoda now?"

"Hey, I can recognize good advice when I hear it. Even if it does come from a three foot tall fictional character. I just don't want you to keep puttin' stuff off, only to look up and realized you've waited too long to do the things that really matter in life. Like havin' kids. All the work you do, most people won't remember you for it when you're dead and gone. But kids and grandkids? They'll always remember."

"Dude… you sound like Mom."

"Great minds. So?"

"Now's not a good time."

"For what? Havin' kids or talkin' to your old man about it?"

"Dad… it's not that simple."

"It's as complicated as you make it. Family is more important than work. More important than anything."

"Didn't work out that way for you and Mom."

"That's why we stayed together as long as we did though. If it didn't mean so much to us, we would've thrown that towel in a long time before we did. You two just need to go for it… have kids now before you can't. You won't regret it. I know I don't. Besides, what the hell is the use of havin' six kids if _only two_ of you are going to give us grandkids?"

"Maybe we don't want to have kids."

"Why would you _not_ want to have kids? That's all you two could talk about a couple years ago."

"In order to have kids, you actually have to have sex, Dad."

"Oh… _oh_." John cleared his throat and suddenly found the table incredibly interesting. "Wow. Are you… are you having… _performance_ problems?"

"Performance problems?" Sam repeated incredulously. "Are you asking me if I'm _impotent_?"

"There's nothin' to be ashamed of, Sammy. It's just… somethin' that happens sometimes. It could just be _stress_. Maybe the two of you just need to get away. Go somewhere romantic, somewhere you can relax. No cell phones, no email, no computers, no pressure. Just let things happen naturally."

Sam sighed and rubbed his temple. "It's not _stress_, Dad."

"What? You think it's medical?"

"No… Dad, there's nothing wrong with my _performance_, okay?"

Suddenly John was looking at him again, a slightly confused expression on his face. Sam could practically see the wheels turning in his father's head and he suddenly realized that he'd said too damn much. "If you're not havin' sex with your wife then how do you know… Oh, Sammy."

"Oh, shit," Sam breathed out as he realized he'd given away far more than he should have. He should have made his escape when he had the chance.

John was pinning him with an intense glare and Sam found it hard to maintain eye contact, his heart in his throat. He argued with his father, sure, but he never wanted John to look at him like that. "Tell me you're not fuckin' around on your wife, Sam."

Sam finally looked away, unable to stand it any longer. He suddenly felt like he was four years old again. "Dad… I didn't… it's not my fault, okay?"

"You're havin' an affair and it's not your fault? On what planet does that make sense?"

"I had to beg for sex from my own wife. It was like trying to get into fuckin' Fort Knox, Dad. Do you have any idea how _humiliating_ that is?"

"Sam… when a woman won't have sex with you, something is seriously wrong with the relationship. You either work it out or you walk away. But what you do _not_ do is fuck somebody else behind her back!"

Sam stood up and paced to the wall. He rubbed his face, tried to clear his mind. Finally, he turned to face his father. "You think I don't feel like shit, Dad? That I don't look at myself in the mirror and… I don't even know who I _am_ anymore."

"You're still my kid. And you can still make this right."

"How?"

"You wanna respect the guy you see in the mirror again? You need to either find a way to make your marriage work, or let Jess go. You can't keep doing this to her or to yourself."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Easy?" John snorted. "It'll be anything _but_, whichever way things end up. any real relationship, is work on a good day. But when it's been fractured and neglected it's even harder. You'll have to swallow your pride. And _ending things_… even when you got somebody else, that's like… I can't even describe what that's like. Even when you do everything you can and it's obvious the relationship is over, it still hurts like hell to actually walk away. And it takes a long time to really get past."

"Have you? Gotten over walking away from Mom?"

"Not completely. But I'm gettin' there. Dean's so much more patient than I deserve. It's good a hell of a lot more often than it sucks ass now. And Sammy? You can let her know that you fucked up and you're a complete idiot… but the only reason to come clean about the affair is if you wanna hurt Jess."

"But how can we make things right if there are secrets?"

"I know it feels like the right thing to do. But it's right up there with running away from gunfire during a battle. Your first instinct is always wrong. The right thing sometimes comes at a heavy cost, though. It'll weigh on you. Make you lose sleep at night. It'll be a burden you'll have to carry alone."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

"I never cheated on your mother, Sammy. But that don't mean I never did anything I had to keep to myself, or that it wasn't a heavy thing to hold on to. That desire to unburden yourself is a damn selfish one, though. 'Cause it's always gonna be somebody's burden. Yours or hers."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Dean leaned against the kitchen counter next to John, eating a peach while he watched him do the dishes. He bought peaches solely for the pleasure of watching Dean eat them and he was temporarily distracted by the juice that ran from the corner of his mouth and the tongue trying to chase it.

"You know, it's been three years," the younger man said conversationally. "You keep callin' Roberto 'what's his face' and I'm gonna start thinkin' you're jealous."

"Why would I be jealous? You're _much_ prettier than he is."

Dean snorted and poked John in the ribs. "You know what I mean."

"I'm not jealous." He looked Dean in the eye to make sure the boy knew he meant it. "I just keep mixing the bastard's name up with someone else's."

Dean chewed thoughtfully on a bit of peach. "Is it because he looks like Enrique Iglesias?"

John frowned at the boy. He knew it was before his time, but where the hell had he gotten Enrique? "You mean Julio, don't you?"

Dean huffed out a breath and walked away, shaking his head.

"What?" John called after him. When he got no answer he shrugged and went back to the dishes. "I don't think he looks _anything_ like Julio Iglesias," he muttered to himself.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

John came home from poker at Bobby's to find his oldest son brooding on his couch. Dean was writing in the kitchen. John went to him first, figuring that would be the simplest to deal with, and gave him a quick kiss.

"Hey, old man. How was poker?"

"Lucrative. If I can find someone to take poker chips as payment for somethin'. How's the manual comin'?" He was working on updating the Marine manual for the use of armored units in asymmetrical warfare and John was impressed with what he'd let him see so far.

Dean snorted softly. "It's comin'. I've just come to the conclusion that the Corps is run by a bunch of masochists. Now go see about Sam. He's been mopin' around here all day."

"Yeah," John sighed out as he grabbed two beers out of the fridge. He opened them, tossing the caps before going out to the living room and handing one of the bottles to his son as he sat down next to him.

"My marriage is over."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Did you tell her? About the affair?"

"No… she… she never found out about it. And that's over now anyway."

"Did you love the girl you were sleepin' with?"

He let his head fall back against the back of the couch, looking like he was thinking about it. He huffed out a soft breath. "I don't think what I felt for Meg was love. More like temporary insanity. Bein' with her was like this addictive rush when it was going on. But… I don't even really miss her. Not like I miss Jess."

"Then what happened to end things?"

Sam shrugged, finally taking a sip of his beer. "My wife is in love with someone else. I wasn't… I was never _there_ for her, you know? Lookin' back on it I just abandoned her. None of it was what I'd thought it would be and I just sort of checked out. And by the time I tried to fix it, it was too late. She never actually had sex with him… the cheating was all me. But she loves him. And she deserves to be happy. Of course, I just had to be a dick about it when I figured it out. Once I got over the crushed ego, though… I was almost happy for her." A tear escaped and he angrily wiped it away. "She deserves better than me."

"I don't know about all that. I happen to think you're a damn good man, son. You just needed to remember that."

He snorted softly, his bottom lip quivering like it had when he was small and he was trying so hard to be brave, to not cry when he was hurt. John softly touched the hair on the boy's temple, wishing it was as easy to solve his problems now as it had been back then. "Yeah. A damn good man who can't keep his dick in his pants. I deserve this. I deserve to be alone."

John pulled the boy against him and let him cry quietly on his shoulder, the way he let Andrew cry that day in his room. Losing a wife was a lot like losing a limb. "I'm sorry, son. It hurts. I know. Let this teach you what you need to know to be better and… you won't be alone forever."

Sam snorted wetly. "Whatever Yoda."

"You joke. But I'm thinkin' of writin' a book. John's Big Book of Answers."

The boy laughed so hard through his tears that he snorted. "Dad!"

"Too much? How about All You Ever Need to Know About Life and Maintaining Engines by John Winchester?"

Sam pushed himself away from John, still laughing and wiped away his tears. "You're deranged," he finally said when his laughter died down.

"Listen to your old man, son. Just this once. You'll get through this. And you'll be a better man for it. When you get married again, you'll be a better husband and a better father for it." He held up his hand to forestall his son's response. "Maybe you don't deserve it now – though I disagree with you on that – the idea is to become someone who does. You don't have to be the guy who cheated on his wife today just 'cause that's who you were last week."

Sam was looking at him with his warm hazel eyes and he just seemed so vulnerable. He could still see the children all his kids had been in an expression or moment of tiredness or irritability. Right now was one of those times with Sammy. "Yeah. Is it okay… if I crash here for a few days? I'm letting Jess keep the house and I…"

"Of course. The couch is all yours. Let me know if there's anything else you need."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"So… how long's Sam gonna be on the couch?" Dean was lazily stroking his inner thigh as they lay in bed. The need to be silent, almost secretive, about sex always seemed to make it hotter somehow. John was totally spent and slowly sliding towards sleep.

"Don't know. Kinda pitiful ain't he?"

"That's one way to put it. Think he'll leave if we tell him what we do on the couch?"

John snorted softly. "He might just move to the chair. I'm not sure he's pulled himself together enough yet to find someplace else to go, let alone actually go there. You really want him to go?"

Dean sighed. "No. And yes. I like it just bein' you and me. But you're right. He's pretty damn pitiful. And it's just gonna get worse."

"Why?"

"I talked to Mary this afternoon… Jess is getting married."

"What? Already?"

"Yeah. Supposedly it's gonna be a long engagement, but I have a feeling he's not gonna take it well."

"If he doesn't show some motivation by tomorrow, I'll give him a nudge. I never give more than a few days to wallow." Andrew had been the exception. He had been fragile, and John knew that pushing too soon would be just as disastrous as not pushing at all.

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

It started off with a sleepy conversation that probably should have been repeated the next day. The area over the garage that included Dean's apartment – and John still thought of it as Dean's apartment as often as he thought of it as 'home' – was huge. He estimated that 75% of it was unused storage space. Why not use more of it? He didn't want anything huge, they didn't need too much space. But what if one of the kids or a grandkid or two wanted to spend the night? Dean had been right that there was a certain ick factor about bedding people down on the couch where the boy routinely molested him.

So he'd sprung the idea on Dean one night after they'd both worked the longest ass day he'd endured since he left the Corps. They'd dragged themselves home from a job in Costa Rica only to have to finished an engine rebuild. They barely had the energy get ready for bed and kiss goodnight out once they'd crawled up the stairs. John had asked if he thought expanding was a good idea as he lay in bed fighting sleep for a few more seconds and Dean had mumbled against his chest that it sounded great before huffing out a breath that was either a sigh or a yawn and snoring softly on the inhale.

When Dean came home two days later from a short trip to visit his brother and his newest nephew, the contractors were already at work.

"What the fuck?" He stood in the doorway looking around in bewilderment.

John frowned. "It's the expansion we were talkin' about. Private bathroom for us, a guest room and a patio."

Dean blinked at him, clearly confused. "Was this another one of those times when you try to talk to me about shit while I'm fallin' asleep?"

John winced. "Uh. Yeah."

The younger man snorted, suddenly looking amused as he came inside and kicked the door shut behind him. "Dude, you really gotta stop doin' that. I never remember." He kissed John. "How long's this gonna last?"

John cleared his throat. It still threw him a little when Dean seemed to take everything in stride. "Two more weeks. I got two crews workin' at the same time to get it done faster. We'll likely have to stay at a hotel for a couple o' days while they work on the electricity and plumbing, but I figure we could just pretend we're on vacation."

"Awesome. They're not gonna be workin' late tonight, are they? Cause I, uh, _missed_ you." Dean pressed himself against him briefly for emphasis.

He sighed out a shaky breath. "No, they aren't. Hell, I'll kick 'em out now if you want."

Dean backed away with a wicked smirk. "Nah. I like you a little desperate."

John laughed. "Bastard."

"Oh, wow," Dean said when he saw the finished product a little over two weeks later. "This is awesome, John!"

Their private bathroom had a bathtub and a shower, each big enough for them both, and a double sink. The guest room was a nice size with a dresser, a twin loft bed over a desk and a small flat screen and DVD player and another full sized bed on the other side of the room. A dining room had been added next to the kitchen. The living room, kitchen and dining room all opened up to the patio, which had a huge grill, a small fridge and more outdoor furniture than either of them had seen outside of a furniture store. And a fire pit.

"I can't believe that this only took two weeks."

"I didn't want us to be inconvenienced for long. I wanted more space for family stuff, and more privacy for us when people are over. Now that Sammy's got his shit together and he's marryin' Sarah, maybe he'll have kids too. Then there's your family. Your brother has the three, and your sister's gettin' married."

"Yeah. It was kinda the size of a postage stamp before."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

Dean sat at the bar watching his half drunken family make fools of themselves on the dance floor. This was sure as hell a lot more fun than Sam's first wedding. That last one had been a stuffy affair, formal and regimented in an effort to reach perfection. But this one was a party and everyone had let their hair down. He and John were the only ones who had been nursing the same drinks they started out with. They had a job to do the next day, and they both needed to be clearheaded.

He chuckled as he watched Sam and his new wife Sarah attempting some sort of line dance that neither of them knew very well, or were too buzzed to remember, but where having too much fun to really care. Sam had long since taken off his jacket and tie, and his shirt was untucked, the sleeves rolled up. She was barefoot and her veil was nowhere to be seen. The song was over and everyone hooted music changed and most of the people on the floor paired off, but some went to their seats.

"Care to dance?"

Dean turned at the sound of Mary's voice, a slight smile on his face. "What will people say?"

She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "Whatever the hell they want."

"I'm rusty," he warned. He and John didn't dance… they both wanted to lead and neither of them cared to dance enough to deal with trying to compromise. Besides, if they wanted to hold each other and move rhythmically, Dean thought sex was so much better than dancing.

"Just don't step on my toes and we'll be fine."

Dean finished off the drink he'd been nursing and set the glass down. "Lead the way."

After a moment of smoothly gliding across the dance floor, Mary smiled up at him. "I thought you were rusty."

He shrugged. "It's kinda like riding a bike."

"Where'd you learn to dance in the first place?"

"Had a girlfriend in high school. She insisted I learn how for prom. It's come in handy a few times since. You look great by the way. Roberto can't stop looking at you. I think someone's gonna get lucky tonight," he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. "You don't clean up so bad yourself. I get what John sees in you."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

After her dance with Dean, Mary spied John across the dance floor from their table watching the kids. It wasn't difficult, most of their guests were gone and very few of the ones left were dancing. Only God knew where his tie had gone and the neck of his shirt was open. She made her way over and sat next to him. Dean was back at the table, laughing about something or other.

Almost all of their children were married now, except Robert, who seemed to be having too much fun to settle down. Michael and Karen were expecting their third baby. Shauna and Jacob were 'negotiating' their second child now that their oldest was four and not far from starting preschool. Riley was home on maternity leave and already seemed like she was anxious to get back in the pilot's seat. Andrew was working full time for John now as a mechanic and running logistics for his side business. He and Charlie's first baby had just turned six months old.

They all sat around the big family table joking and laughing, looking like they were in no hurry to leave despite the lateness of the hour. They're kids were all sitting around a small table nearby, Michael's oldest daughter 'babysitting' the younger ones.

"Look at what we did," John said as he watched them.

Mary smiled. "Yeah. They're pretty great, aren't they?"

He huffed out a soft breath and nodded. "You ever regret it? Marryin' me?"

"Never. I'd do it all over again. You?"

"Not for a minute. So, Roberto? He the one?"

She shrugged. "He was yesterday. He is today. Tomorrow? Who knows?"

He snorted out a laugh. "You are such a damn _hippy_."

She laughed. "And you are such a damn square."

He tilted his head in agreement. "Damn straight."

She shook her head and stood up. "Come on. Let's go join 'em." They crossed the dance floor together and took their seats.

"She's _bossy_, dude," Andrew was saying, amused, as he watched Michael's first born ordering around her younger brothers and cousins.

"Yeah," Michael conceded with a shrug. "She's a Winchester and she's a first born. Just look at Sammy. You'll see soon enough."

"Hey," Sam objected, slouching casually in his chair, his arm around his new wife. "Are you tryin' to say I'm bossy? _Me_?"

Everyone went quiet for a second and looked at him before they all burst into laughter, Sam included.

John finally tapped Dean on the shoulder. "Com' on sweetheart. Time to go."

Andrew sighed and stretched. "I guess that's my cue too."

"You're leaving already?" Sarah asked, looking disappointed.

"We got a work trip in the morning," Dean explained

His comment was met by silence. Sam's laughter broke the tension. "Yeah. I bet. Just make sure you two call me in case you decide to break, bend or otherwise abuse any laws."

John snorted. "If we get caught, you mean," he said with a wink. He stood up and pulled his son into a hug complete with a few manly pats on the back. "Congratulations son. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah. Well, sometimes the second time's the charm, right?"

"Sometimes." John smiled at his oldest child and pat him on the cheek. "Be happy, Sammy."

"Be careful, Dad. You too Dean."

"What about _me_?" Andrew complained.

"What about you? You're run logistics off site."

"Whatever."

**SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN**

"You ever think about havin' kids?"

Dean froze and looked up at John from the guts of the transmission he was rebuilding with a frown. He wondered if this had anything to do with Sam _finally_ having a kid last week and putting John and Mary out of their self-imposed misery. Frankly, Dean didn't see the point. His family was in no danger of dying out with his brother's four kids and his sister's two. And it wasn't like there was any shortage of babies around for John to spoil rotten.

"Why, you're biological clock tickin', sweetness?" he finally asked with a raised eyebrow.

John scowled at him good-naturedly. "Don't be a smartass. I just mean… I've got kids, and I wouldn't trade 'em for anything. I think you should get the chance to be a father too if you want. You'd be a great father."

He straightened himself and wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder. He'd never given much thought to having kids. Sometimes, when he'd thought that maybe he'd fall in love with a woman and get married he wondered what kind of husband and father he'd make, if he'd be as good as John. But it had never been any kind of serious consideration. "What're you suggestin'? Adoption?"

"Nah. Sara Rose wants to have kids."

He blinked at the older man in shock. "You want me to fuck Sara Rose? The receptionist?"

John growled softly, raising gooseflesh on Dean's arms. The older man grabbed him by the hips and pushed him hard against the wall behind him. "Let me explain somethin' to you, sweetheart. I'm a very jealous man. The only person you're allowed to fuck for as long as we're together is me."

He bit his lip. He loved it when John got all possessive. "Yeah? You do know where babies come from, right?"

"There's artificial insemination." John's breath was warm on his throat just before he nipped at the skin there, making him shudder. Dean slid his hands up the older man's arms and settled them on his shoulders.

He licked his dry lips. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"I'm just sayin'… if it's somethin' you wanna do, I'll be behind you one hundred percent. Show you how to change diapers and burped the kid."

"Already know how to do all that shit. Do you realize how many kids I'm around all the time?"

John smiled. "Yeah. Just think about it."

"Okay. I'll think about it. But right now… I think we should close up and take this upstairs."

**THE END**


End file.
